#since I know attending venues can be a no-go for various reasons | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cheri-translates · 4 years ago

Text

[CN] Victor’s Patio Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

MC: It’s finally over!

I stretch, basking in the warm afternoon sunlight.

MC: The air-conditioning in the meeting room was so strong. I almost sneezed...

Victor: That’s why you held your breath till your face turned red?

MC: I did not...

I want to retort, but both our phones vibrate at the same time.

Curious, I tap and open the message. The sender is Ronan. The beginning of the message reads: “Inviting Mr Victor and Miss MC...”

[Note: If you don't know who Ronan is, check out Victor’s Understanding the Human World date before continuing]

Victor: To attend an appointment on the sky garden of the CR Building, a subsidiary company of LFG, after three days, at 7pm.

Victor softly reads the bottom half of the message aloud - he has received the same message.

MC: I remember that Ronan invited internationally renowned architects to build the film sets for his new movie. It should be this sky garden then? Since he has invited us, could it have something to do with the new movie?

Victor: We’ll know when we get there.

He looks at the phone in his hand indifferently. Despite his expression, it seems he already has an answer.

Three days later.

Victor and I reach the CR Building punctually.

Ronan: The two of you are here. Come, the movie preview is on the top floor.

Without much idle chat, we exchange greetings, and he enthusiastically leads us to the elevator.

MC: The shoot has already been completed? That’s pretty fast.

Ronan: Mm, the shoot this time went really smoothly. Whether in the capacity of a friend, or the biggest investor, I want the both of you to be the first few to see my movie.

MC: Why did I receive an invitation too...

Hearing my soft confusion, Ronan laughs loudly while he responds.

Ronan: When we were shooting Dévotion, it was only because of your cooperation that I could shoot a romantic and poetic Chinese wedding. Also, the movie this time was largely inspired by the two of you, so inviting you is definitely reasonable. For example, Victor revealed that, to him, you are actually...

Victor: Often impudent, and require improvement in time management. But once you slow down, your work capabilities have indeed improved quite a bit.

MC: ...why do I feel like what you told Ronan had nothing to do with my work capabilities.

I arch my eyebrows, not wanting to show signs of weakness. I toss a grimace towards Victor.

Before phrases in my mind such as “a woman’s instincts are very accurate” leave my mouth, Ronan starts laughing as he watches us from the side.

Ding--

Along with a soft ring, the elevator halts steadily at the highest level of the building. The exquisite sky garden greets my vision as the elevator doors open slowly.

Green trees display their leaves on mid-air platforms, and flowers of differing colours are scattered around, decorating the area.

The course of a river is guided by steel, flowing into a waterfall, gathering into a river, and slowly flowing around the trees and flowers.

Victor: The movie preview will start in ten minutes. How much longer do you plan to dillydally?

As though he isn’t drawn to the view at all, Victor simply holds his hand out in front of me.

MC: Yes, yes. As expected of the Mr CEO who has seen the big world - displaying an unchanging expression even after seeing such a view.

I hold onto his hand readily, and subtly lean against his side a little more.

The corners of Victor’s lips seem to curl upwards slightly. He accommodates to my footsteps, and we head to the venue together.

The movie preview is extremely successful.

Summarising the legend of the sky garden, Ronan illustrated a story of the male lead’s struggle at the end of the world, looking for an oasis.

And the climax of the story occurred at this very sky garden--

Lights and shadows merged with drifting flower petals, the last green leaf, and the last water source at the very end of the world...

Apart from the excellent narrative, the visual effects from the film alone gives one unparalleled enjoyment.

After the movie ends, I can’t help but give a standing ovation.

A few members of the audience, who were immersed in the movie like I was, send their cheers to the directors and actors.

MC: As expected of Ronan’s movie - it’s really brilliant.

Victor: Mm. It’s his usual standard.

Although Victor says this, he isn’t stingy with his applause.

MC: There’s a really immersive feeling knowing that we’re in the most beautiful scene of the movie...

Victor: Let’s go then.

Right after the words land, my palm is already encased in warmth.

Victor: To look at the garden you’ve been thinking about in your heart since just now.

MC: Okay! It’s a rare opportunity to walk into the beautiful scenery crafted by world-class directors and architects. If we don’t take a proper look, it’d be such a pity.

Victor: In that case, follow me and don’t let go of my hand again.

MC: Anyway, no matter where I am, you’ll always find me in the end. I won’t get lost.

We stand up, and I smile while holding onto his hand tightly.

He lets out a soft laugh. Maybe it’s my misperception, but the night seems to become gentler along with him.

I hear the sound of gurgling water in my ears, and red corn poppies bloom among the shadows of trees.

My fingers brush against the tips of bushes, and I feel the branches carrying the coolness of night.

MC: Sigh... it’s a shame that this place would be torn down after a while. And it’s such a beautiful set-up designed by a famous architect...

The more we stroll in the garden, the more I feel sorry for its impending disappearance.

Victor: You really can’t bear to see it gone?

MC: In the bustling city, such a garden is just too precious.

The corners of Victor’s lips lift in response to my words. He responds calmly.

Victor: The garden will be retained, and will become a cafe open to the public in the long-term.

MC: So in the future... it will also be LFG’s property?!

Victor doesn’t comment.

Victor: Once the movie preview is over, there will be a gradual adjustment of the layout and decor.

MC: ...it’s really nice to have money.

Victor: That’s your biggest takeaway after watching the preview?

MC: Of course not. I have very deep thoughts regarding this movie!

Victor arches his brows, as though waiting for my “deep thoughts” and review.

I clear my throat, temporarily tossing aside my feelings towards capitalism. In my mind, I start recalling the images from the movie.

MC: In Ronan’s movie, the lead keeps searching for an “oasis” in order to settle down and have sustenance. Every person needs his own “oasis”. It’s only when one has a foothold and a place to rest can he continually move forward.

Victor: Looks like you really watched it seriously.

MC: Which is why I’m very surprised by your decision to retain this garden. Perhaps it can become an oasis for busy people in this bustling city.

Victor: If it’s possible, that would be best.

MC: You don't think such an idea is overly vague or idealistic?

Victor: You can only move forward with some resources. This is the same for everyone. Moreover, it’s only when you have a goal in mind and know where you’re heading towards, can you walk far, and walk steadily.

I run a few steps in front, then turn around to stick out my tongue at him.

MC: Are we here to participate in the movie preview, or to do an inspection with you?

Victor: Watch where you’re going.

Slightly resigned, Victor pushes aside some branches sticking out along the path. He reaches out and pulls me back to his side.

Suddenly, a different view from the slender and delicate poppies enters my vision.

MC: Roses!

I blink. In one corner of the garden, in replacement of poppies, crimson roses bloom warmly under the moonlight.

At the side, there are even a few bean bags and a small coffee table.

In the luxurious and majestic garden, the roses, while sharing the same colour as poppies, add a different style to the courtyard.

My thoughts drift to the rose-scented town I had once taken a slow walk with him in.

[Note: This is a reference to Victor’s Magnificent Date]

I can’t help but smile and ask Victor a question.

MC: Is this one of the methods to attract visitors and raise property value?

Victor: Yes.

Victor admits it matter-of-factly, but there’s a smile in his eyes.

Victor: Ronan’s team insisted on adding different understandings of this theme in order to portray a richer definition of an “oasis”. Since they asked for my opinion, I naturally gave them my view.

Standing under the warm yellow street lamp, Victor’s expression looks exceptionally tender.

Victor: From what I see, the result isn’t bad.

There is a subtle sweet aroma of roses in the air. I sit comfortably on a bean bag, asking Victor with a grin:

MC: What other adjustments will be made?

Dressed in a well-ironed suit, Victor is also half-lying on the bean bag, looking somewhat languid. The aura surrounding him has become much more gentle.

It’s as though we aren’t at a bustling movie preview, or a sky garden on the top floor of a building.

It’s just a normal weekend evening, in a small courtyard belonging to us, as we shed off the week’s worth of fatigue.

I can’t help but think of the afternoon he slept in front of me, and remember the day he had revealed an almost imperceptible state of relaxation to me.

[Note: This is a reference to Victor’s Return Home Date]

Victor: You look like you have a lot of thoughts?

MC: Of course I do! I’ve been to various shooting locations, and have met mature producers with differing styles. Apart from that, I’m also a contemporary member of society with a delicate mind and good aesthetic sense. Which is why I’m clearer than anyone else about what a stressed worker needs most in terms of external care. Just look - even my house is very warm, right?

Victor: If you can change your habit of leaving things lying around, it might be considered a “warm” house.

MC: This is called “integrating with the masses” - it’s a small beauty in life.

Recalling the earlier topic, I stand up, pulling Victor as we head to the inner area of the park.

MC: For example, I think this place could have a few more elegant seats.

I point at the hanging rattan chair underneath the flower stand.

MC: That way, visitors would be more comfortable when sitting down. Also, this path we walked on - although it looks very pretty in the movie, it’s easy to get hooked by bushes at the side. If it weren’t for your words just now, I would have definitely bumped into it. Also...

I look towards the trail lined with trees on both sides, leading towards the centre of the park.

MC: Maybe this is just my selfish thought, and has nothing to do with increasing practicality or comfort. However, if I had a choice, I would change these trees to Platanus trees.

Several strands of shock flash across Victor’s dark eyes. Then, he opens his mouth to ask in slight amusement:

Victor: Why is that so?

MC: Legend says that the Hanging Gardens was created by the king of Babylon for his wife who was suffering from homesickness.

[Note: Platanus trees were part of the Hanging Gardens. Platanus trees, also known as Oriental Plane Trees, are a frequent motif featured in Classical Chinese poetry as an embodiment of sorrowful sentiments due to its autumnal shedding of leaves]

I walk along the small trail, staring at the poppies swaying in the wind.

I wonder if that king, all those thousands of years ago, carried such a heart - wanting to give such a luxurious gift to the person he loved.

MC: No matter what others may say, I also wish to leave the best things to the person most important to me. To build an oasis within his sight and touch where he can have a peace of mind. You’ve left a corner of the camellia garden for me, so I also wish to give you a small trail lined with Platanus trees.

[Note: This is a reference to Victor’s Maze date, which is available in EN]

I raise my head with a smile, not caring that my cheeks have already heated up. I observe Victor’s dark coloured eyes carefully, and tell him what’s in my heart calmly and sincerely.

Victor pauses for a moment. Apart from surprise, his eyes also contain an undercurrent of a deeper and heavier emotion.

Victor: With so many ideas, not letting you write a proposal to collaborate with the design team would be a waste of talent. When exactly did you learn to say such things?

In the end, all his emotions culminate into his usual ridicule, which is more tender than usual.

Curling his fingers, he taps me on the forehead with some affection.

MC: If you feel happy, you can just say it directly, really.

Victor: And when did you hear me say that?

MC: I felt it!

While laughing, I step onto the stairs, looking at the blooming poppy flowerbed.

The flowerbed, which is suspended in mid-air, is the highest point of the garden. It is held up firmly by chains above the pool.

MC: Do you feel like I’m especially thoughtful and especially cute right now?

Victor: I only feel that you’re especially childish.

While Victor says this, he walks up to the stairs and holds onto my hand.

Victor: And that you’re truly a dummy.

It is only when he draws nearer that I can clearly see the upward curve of his lips.

Apart from the faraway lights and the water under us, his eyes also reflect my brilliantly smiling face.

The flowerbed sways back and forth in small motions.

Sitting here, I not only have a panoramic view of the garden, but can also overlook the entirety of Loveland City.

In the distance, the city lights are scattered around, artificial light sources forming another galaxy on earth.

MC: Victor, you once said that you would look at Loveland City from a height whenever you’re in a bad mood. I think I can understand something I didn’t think of before!

Victor: What do you understand this time?

MC: This garden on the top level of the building, where you can overlook Loveland City, is perhaps your oasis. Now that I think about it, everything I said just now was unnecessary, right?

Recalling my eloquent suggestions to Victor earlier, I start feeling slightly embarrassed.

Victor: Looks like you still don’t know anything.

MC: Tell me - what should I know then?

Supporting myself on the flowerbed with one hand, I grin, turning around to ask him.

The suspended flowerbed sways violently from my sudden movement. Only then do I remember that there are only a few fulcrums holding up the flower bed.

With an unstable footing, I subconsciously reach out to clutch onto Victor, trying to maintain my balance. However, I still fall against the flower bed, hurting my shoulder blade.

Victor: You’re being impatient again.

[Note: There isn’t a direct translation of the phrase used here, 毛毛躁躁 (”mao mao zao zao”), but it conveys the idea of doing things hurriedly and inattentively]

His voice resounds very close to me. I open my eyes, and directly meet his line of sight.

Because of my sudden movement, Victor has also been pulled towards me.

One of his hands is wrapped around the back of my head, preventing me from hitting it. Another hand is at my ear, holding me steady.

Right now, this action seems to be imprisoning me between the fresh flowers and himself.

MC: S...sorry, I’ll pay more attention next time...

I stammer, my heart rate speeding up.

Victor: You said this the last time as well.

The heat from summer has not fully dissipated. Humidity lingers in the air.

The poppies in the garden bloom quietly, and the night is warm. It’s as though everything I see and feel have become gentle.

Even Victor’s eyes and outline grow blurry from the light and shadows, encasing him in a layer of tenderness.

Our sudden proximity causes my heart rate to accelerate, and it feels like my thoughts have been stuck in place.

I avert my gaze, slightly guilty. I raise my palm to put some distance between us.

MC: We’re about done with the viewing. The dinner is about to begin, so we should head down... I remember it’s one level below?

Victor: ...do you know that your ability to change the topic is very poor.

Victor sighs softly, then gently shifts his hand away from the back of my head.

When the warmth belonging to him vanishes, a sense of longing floods my heart.

It’s as though I have awakened from a charming dream surrounded by warm currents, returning to reality once again.

But in the next second, the warmth I’m most familiar with envelops my wrist.

Looking into his dark eyes, I think I must have truly misunderstood.

Whether it’s the Babylonian king from thousands of years ago, or any other ordinary person, the thing people truly want isn’t the view from their memory. It’s the person they want to share the view with.

Victor: I’m going to answer your question from just now. Listen carefully.

Victor: The words you said are not unnecessary.

Victor: And I am indeed very happy.

Victor shifts upwards, encircling me in front of him again.

He is so close that the entire world seems to be condensed into his pair of eyes.

The fountain spurts at regular intervals, shattering the calm of the water. Water vapour floating in the air refracts light, caging us in a colourful curtain of light.

Victor: Just now, someone eloquently mentioned wanting to build an oasis within my sight and touch. And now you’re so anxious - where do you want to run off to?

Perhaps the temperature of the evening is overly gentle, and the light from the water is too fine. I’m unable to see what emotions lie in Victor’s eyes.

As the distance between us closes, I can clearly see every gentle quiver of his eyelashes, and can feel the heat from every lingering breath from our noses.

His lips move slightly, as though wanting to say something to me.

Before he can speak, the fountain spurts again. This time, the cool water happens to spray onto us.

MC: Ah...

I want to hurriedly straighten up and dry Victor, but a gentle yet irresistible pressure pushes me back down.

The water columns from the fountain change, forming into different heights and shapes. Scattered droplets of water patter on us like light rain.

Victor’s hair, which has always been tidied meticulously, droops slightly because of the water droplets.

The slender poppies beside us sway slightly. Water vapour condenses on the flower petals, dripping down along the body of the flower.

Victor: No need to care about that. Having you here is enough.

His slightly hoarse voice brushes against my ear along with his breath. It circles past the nape of my neck, evoking a certain numbness.

Victor’s body temperature continuously travels to my wrist, entering my heart.

Victor: My “oasis”... has already belonged to me since a very long time ago.

🌹

Phone Call: here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc victor

288 notes · View notes

casuallyimagining · 4 years ago

Text

Post-Performance Headcanons - OT7

(I used to think I wrote headcanons fairly well, but idk... now I’m not so sure. Someday, I’ll make some fancy banners for these.

Also, why do I struggle to write my biases? Why are they the hardest ones to write for? Regardless, I hope you enjoy!)

Kim Seokjin

He’s hungry after performing. But he also craves spending time with you (which, of course, he always wants to do, but after a performance, it’s more of a need than a desire).

Jin always texts you when he and the other members are on the way back to their shared apartment. He never explicitly asks you to come over, but you know it would make him happy, so you always make sure you’re available after concerts, unless he explicitly tells you that he’s doing something else.

You stop at his favorite takeout place and order enough to share with the other guys if they want. Traffic is almost always light enough that you make it to their apartment shortly after they do.

Jin acts surprised to see you every. time. And in a way, he kind of is. As much as he loves you, he knows that he isn’t the easiest person in the world to be in a relationship with. A small part of him wonders when the novelty of showing up at his door with his favorite snacks just to make him smile will wear off, but an even larger part of him doesn’t care. A huge reason he doesn’t ask you to come over after performances is that he doesn’t want you to feel obligated. It makes him happy that you choose to spend time with him, even if it is just sitting in their shared living room at midnight watching Jin demolish an oversized portion of japchae.

After Jin eats and the two of you get the leftovers put away, you make a show of attempting to leave, pretending that you don’t know exactly how it’s going to go. You’ll say you should get going to let him get to bed, and then Jin will tell some stupid flirty joke. You’ll laugh and call him a dork, which makes him laugh even harder. He’ll wrap his arms around you tightly, burying his nose in your hair and ask you to stay. Of course, you ask him if he’s sure and insist that you don’t want to him to lose sleep because of you. And he’ll say some cheesy line about losing sleep if you’re not there with him.

That’s how it goes. Every time. And neither of you would have it any other way.

Min Yoongi

After performances, Yoongi is tired. I mean, he’s always tired, but performances manage to create a special kind of tired. The kind of exhaustion where you can tell all of your energy has managed to seep through your skin and out into the world, and you’re unsure of if you’re even going to make it into bed before you pass out and sleep for 10,000 years.

And yet. He never can fall asleep. Not right away. He texts you as soon as he gets in the car to go back to the members’ shared apartment, asking to see if you’re away and if you want to come over for a bit.

You know what he wants. You know his promise of just hanging out for a little bit is a lie. Yet you go anyway. Because you’re pretty sure Yoongi could text you at 3 am in the middle of a monsoon and you’d go to him.

You arrive at the apartment quicker than you promise—you always overestimate your ETA just in case traffic is terrible—and one of the other members, usually Hoseok, lets you in. Everyone else greets you cheerfully as you make your way to Yoongi’s room.

When you knock, you hear a soft ‘yes?’ from the other side, and you wordlessly let yourself in. He grins, a wide, gummy smile that melts your heart. He’s already in his pajamas, laying in bed, scrolling through his phone.

You slide under the blankets beside him and he puts his phone down, an arm sliding around your waist, pulling you closer.

You lay there, your head on his chest, listening to his breathing even out as he starts to fall asleep. Yoongi insists that he can’t sleep without you on concert days. His batteries drain so fast being surrounded by so many people and so much stress—he says you being there helps him recover faster.

Jung Hoseok

Hoseok’s second favorite place to be is on stage. But his number one will always be with you.

He doesn’t even wait until they’re in the car to text you. Almost as soon as he’s offstage, his phone is in his hand. He can’t help it. He’s just too excited to talk to you after every successful performance.

You beat them to their shared apartment. When Hoseok sees you standing outside waiting for them, he giggles like a child. Every. Time. He gets out of the car and you can hear his giggles get progressively louder as he approaches you.

Before you know it, his arms are around your waist and you can feel the smile in how he holds you.

It doesn’t matter how long the two of you have been together. Hoseok still looks at you like he’s absolutely jazzed that you agreed to date him.

The two of you head up to the apartment, your arms slung around each other’s’ shoulders. He tells you about the interesting parts of their performance, and you tell him about your boring evening at home.

He always promises that he can get you tickets to the guys’ next show, but you both know that there’s no way you could feasibly attend every concert.

In the apartment, Hoseok insists that he’s still too hyped up to fall asleep, so you cuddle on his bed and put on a movie. He lets you pick.

You always make sure to choose something you know he isn’t looking forward to watching, because you know Hoseok is a damn dirty liar. Only ever so often does he even make it through the opening credits before he’s out.

He sleeps with his head resting against your chest, your head leaning against his own. He has an arm wrapped around your waist, and he squeezes you briefly every time one of you shifts.

You lay there and watch the movie as much as you can, running your fingers through his hair and enjoying just being around him, even if he isn’t awake to enjoy it with you.

Kim Namjoon

The only thing Namjoon wants to do when he returns to the apartment after a performance is relax with you. You show up almost as soon as they all walk in the door, and the two of you disappear into Namjoon’s room.

Sometimes, he asks you to read to him. He loves to hear your voice—he could listen to you read listings in a phone book—and he takes any opportunity to get you to talk more. So, having you read aloud the book he’s currently working through helps him relax.

Other times, he wants to watch TV. Nothing too high-brow—no Westworld, no Game of Thrones—usually it’s a stupid drama, or some cartoon he watched as a child, or an American sitcom that doesn’t really require thought. He allows himself to get lost in your touch, your head on his chest, your fingers tracing little shapes into abdomen.

Most of the time, though, he’s content to lay beside you as you play with his hair and tell him about your day. You might think what you did that day was boring, but to Namjoon, it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. He would fall asleep like that if he’d let himself, and often, he catches himself drifting in that ethereal space between sleeping and awake.

There are times where he does fall asleep, particularly when you’re reading, and you can’t help but smile. He looks so at peace, the smallest of smiles on his lips. You get as comfortable as you can without disturbing him, shifting so that his head is more solidly resting on your chest, and play with his hair until you fall asleep, too.

Park Jimin

Jimin allows himself to ride the high of performing for a long while after the lights go off and the crowds go home. There’s no one he would rather talk to than you. And while you might never admit it to him, you look forward to him calling to see if you want to come over.

You see Jimin a lot, but there’s something about his post-performance happiness that you love to see. He’s more relaxed, his happiness comes more freely, as if performing and seeing his fans unlocks a new level of hyper-happiness for him. You love seeing him smile as widely as he does after a concert.

Jimin will tell you everything about the performance, detailing things like his thoughts on his various outfits, the set list, what the crowd’s reaction was to each song, and funny or interesting things that happened.

He’ll even sometimes drag Taehyung or Jungkook into your conversations, asking them to help him tell you about a certain moment or asking them questions about the venue. They’re always happy to oblige—they like spending time with you, too—but after a few minutes, they end up leaving the two of you alone.

Usually, you sit on Jimin’s bed while he’s giving you the rundown, your knees touching, as you’re both sitting cross-legged with a blanket draped over your laps. Sometimes, though, you’re sitting on the couch, legs outstretched, his feet on the cushion beside your hip, yours tucked between his body and the back of the sofa.

You let Jimin talk to his heart’s content. You know how much his little recaps mean to him since you can’t go to every performance, and it makes you happy to know that he cares enough to fill you in on the little details.

Kim Taehyung

Taehyung always wants you to come over to watch a movie. He has several that he loves to watch after performances. They’re all comedies, and they’re all pretty dumb, but he loves to just lay in bed with you and relax.

Watching a movie that he’s seen so many times allows him to just zone out for some time. Concerts and performances are a lot of stimulation at once, so it’s nice to just be there, with you in his arms, without having to worry about the plot, or understanding what the characters are saying.

He absentmindedly plays with your hair as you watch the movie, the two of you reciting your favorite lines as they come up.

Sometimes, you’ll eat snacks while watching the movie, depending on how Taehyung feels. Most of the time, though, you just lay in bed and cuddle.

He likes to tell you how he would compose shots differently than the film’s actual director. That’s part of the reason why he likes watching these movies with you after performances. He’s still pretty hyped up, and watching a movie helps him relax. It doesn’t matter how many times he’s seen a particular film, he can always talk about something he finds interesting about the shot, or how he would have edited something differently to make it feel a certain way.

Sometimes, he feels badly for just wanting some peaceful time alone with you. Doing nothing isn’t really something he’s used to. But you always manage to convince him that he works so hard every other day. He deserves a few hours off to do whatever he wants.

Jeon Jungkook

When he’s done with a performance, all Jungkook wants to do is sit back, relax, and play a game. Video games are a huge part of how Jungkook relieves stress, so it’s no surprise that he chooses them after a concert or live show, no matter if it went well or not.

He texts you when they’re all on the way back to their apartment, and you meet them there, bringing Jungkook some of his favorite snacks, homemade if you can manage it.

The two of you retreat to his room, where you sit on his bed with him while he games. His back is against the headboard, yours is pressed against his chest as you sit between his legs, his arms wrapped around your waist so he can hold you comfortably while still holding the controller.

Even if you aren’t into video games, he’s always willing to play a casual game with you, and he even bought a Nintendo Switch while he was abroad so you could play some of the cuter two player games together. The two of you make a great Mario and Luigi (or Luigi and Gooigi if you’re into Luigi’s Mansion).

In the time that you’ve been dating him, the two of you have built more castles than you can count in Minecraft, bested horror games like Man of Medan, solved more Dr. Mario puzzles than you could dream, and murdered the shit out of so many NPCs in Borderlands.

Of course you’ve played Fall Guys. You and Jungkook both love how adorably simple yet absolutely infuriating it is. You’re addicted, even though you don’t play it as much as some other games.

If you don’t feel like playing with him, he’ll play Overwatch by himself. He loves having you there to cheer him on when he makes a big play.

He finds it funny how invested you get into the action. Sometimes, he’ll throw a match just to see you pout. But most of the time, it just energizes him to do better.

You never play video games for long, maybe an hour or two at most before he’s ready to go to sleep. You’ll lay in bed for a while, your head on his chest, tracing the tattoos on his hand and arm with your index finger. It always gives him goosebumps, and he flinches a little like it tickles, but he insists that you continue if you stop.

His arm is wrapped around you, holding you tightly to his side. He gets a lot of comfort out of having you so close, and he gets particularly clingy when the performance didn’t go as well as he’d planned.

He never tells you about his mistakes right away. You either hear them from one of the guys the next morning, or he tells you about them at some point the next day. But you can always tell when he’s feeling down after a concert.

132 notes · View notes

samwrights · 5 years ago

Text

Pining After You [hc]

Just some Haikyuu!! head cannons about my favorites pining after the object of their affection—you. I’m gonna limit myself to only one Seijoh 3rd year >_> instead, I’m just gonna make Makki’s super long bc love.

I might turn these into one shots. I’m planning a special series to be released for the entire month of May—let me know what you guys think!

Hanamaki;

Ya know, with my last head cannon, I had such a hard time writing for Makki and now that’s all I wanna do.

Cause THIS BOI is too easy-going, too cool, to ever be blunt and up front about his feelings for you. He can’t ruin his image by stumbling over a confession.

Definitely has been in love with you since your guys’ first year—all thanks to your laugh.

Every time he hears you, even if said laugh is occasionally broken with a gentle, genuine snort, Makki feels every single electrical pulse being sent into his nerve endings.

It was a huge part of the reason that he had started owning the class clown trope, cracking jokes with his peers and even the teachers even though that definitely was not kosher. But his almost dry, sarcastic sense of humor always seemed to be rewarded with the angelic gift that was your laughter.

But he doesn’t know how to talk to you. At all.

He tries really hard not to stare at you, or at least tries not to make it super obvious and fails considering you sit on the opposite ends of the classroom

Makki always has lunch in Mattun’s classroom just so he can freely talk about something you did in class that made him laugh or smile, even if it was something stupid like you dropped your pencil or you raised your hand to answer a question.

In your third year, Mattsun is tIRED of it all.

“Just go fucking confess your feelings, I swear to gOD, or I’ll tell her.”

“Dude no, I can’t she’s way outta my league.”

Did I mention Mattsun is over it? So over it that one day, instead of waiting for his best friend to come to his classroom for lunch, he decides to pay yours a visit.

Makki’s freaking out because the fCK was Mattsun walking over to your desk?!

“She’s coming to our tournament this weekend, so bring your A game.” Was all he said before leaving the poor wing spiker to drown in the blood rising up his neck.

You weren’t friends with anyone on the VBC, but you did actually end up at the tournament with a few friends.

Exhilarating was the only way to describe it, up until Seijoh’s loss to Karasuno.

After the team thanked the spectators for watching, you noticed all the third years crying, signifying the end of their careers.

“Thank you for inviting me to watch, Matsukawa. It was really fun.” You said politely, approaching them afterwards.

Mattsun shoves his best friend towards you, “actually, he wanted to invite you. He just didn’t know how.”

Makki.exe has stopped working. He’s too busy spluttering because he literally has no idea what to say to you now. Cool boy? Not even close.

“I’ve actually wanted to come to one of your matches for awhile. I just thought it was weird because I’m not friends with any of you.”

Oh. O H.

“Y-you could’ve asked me...”

“I was hoping you’d ask me. Why do you think I always laugh at your jokes, Hanamaki?”

“Wait, does that mean you don’t think I’m actually funny?” 💀💀💀 Rip.

“I do. You’re funny, talented, handsome, and I’ve liked you since first year.”

Makki.exe has stopped working.

Akaashi;

Akaashi has studied everything he could about you without ever having actually interacted with you.

He knew you were in Bokuto’s class, he knew your name, and that the two of you interacted often, but never outside of the classroom.

He knew that you always carried your school bag over your left shoulder, and tucked your hair behind your right ear when you felt it was in your face.

Your energy somehow matched his best friend’s while simultaneously calming the owl captain like a gentle wave. You reminded Akaashi of the sun rising over the ocean.

Bokuto, oblivious to nearly everything, never realized that his best friend’s calculations went beyond analyzing the ace. One small section of his brain was dedicated to your ass.

Really, there wasn’t anything extraordinary about you, or at least that’s how you felt about yourself. But every time Akaashi swung by Bokuto’s class to walk with him to practice, his eyes were immediately drawn to you for .067 seconds before he’d look away, so as not to make you feel uncomfortable.

Once in a while, Bokuto would let small details about you slip, like how you were in the art club and that you had a showcase coming up displaying the portfolio you had built over the last three years.

He definitely didn’t ditch practice to be there for your showcase.

Showing up to the venue where the showcase was being held, he suddenly felt very under dressed seeing other third years and teachers adorning formal attire while he showed up in black jeans and a grey button up.

Wandering around the venue, Akaashi looked for you or your artwork, his breath held in his lungs when he saw the arsenal of works displayed on large black boards with your name written elegantly at the very top. Made with various mediums, he was stunned by different paintings and drawings of surreal, exquisite landscapes that could not possibly exist.

Then again, he didn’t think you were real either.

One particular painting invoked a strange emotion in him—a large, desecrated shipwreck amongst of field of bright flowers with the sun setting in the back. Titled “Crack The Sky”, the piece emanated joy and grief in one. It was almost as stunning as you were.

“This one’s my favorite.” You announced sheepishly from beside him and he realized he had never heard your voice before. The setter turned to look at you, drinking in your appearance up close for the first time. “You’re Bokuto’s friend, aren’t you? Akaashi?”

He was kinda hurt to hear you mention Bokuto for reasons unknown to himself jealous much?

“Yeah. It’s nice to meet you.” He bows slightly, remember that no matter how infatuated he was with you, you were still his senpai.

He began walking with you as you explained the creation process of your different pieces. Not that he was actually paying attention, though he’d never admit that. He just liked hearing you talk and he would definitely never admit that.

You excuse yourself as your phone rings, though you don’t walk away, allowing him to hear your end of the conversation. “Yep, he’s here. I owe you dinner. You wanna talk to him?” Akaashi cocks a brow in your direction, staring at your cellphone that you’ve now held over to him. Bokuto’s name flashed on the screen.

“Uh, hi?” The setter asked, confused.

“I made a bet with her that you would ditch practice to go to her showcase because yOu LoVe HeR.”

Aight, imma head out.

Before he could run away out of embarrassment, you grabbed his wrist though you were still on the phone with Bokuto.

“Would you like to join us for dinner? Seems kinda unfair for him to get dinner when you’re the one who made the effort to be here.”

Akaashi graciously accepts to which you respond by telling Bokuto where you would meet him for the evening.

“So you love me, huh?” 💀💀💀 If Akaashi could magically disappear, he would. Or even better, if his blush ran hot enough to melt the skin off his face, that’d be great too.

But you never let go of his wrist until now, opting to wrap an arm around his instead.

“I like you too. Why do you think Bokuto and I made a bet about you coming here, silly?”

Kenma;

Poor Kenma. The worst part of his whole situation was actually being friends with you, knowing he would never get to have you.

Why would you want him, anyway? You were more fit for someone like Kuroo—someone who was as boisterous and confident as you were. He anticipated the day you two announced your relationship and left him behind in your little trio.

Not even Kuroo knew that he was in love with you and maybe that was a mistake on his part but he could never tell his best friend that you were his entire world. It was too embarrassing for him.

It took entirely too much energy to even sort through his feelings alone, how much more exhausting would it be for him to run through every single thing he felt about you to someone else?

Like the way you would nearly skip out your home every morning when the boys came to fetch you to walk to school together.

Or the way you unabashedly asked almost too personal of questions, or questions that were just soooo left field of you were friends with a person. “Hey Kuroo, how many brushes do you think you would break if you finally decided to brush your hair after 17 years?” Was one of Kenma’s favorites.

The way you sing along to every song that plays on your iPod or even the radio, even if you didn’t know the song, you would try to sing along anyway.

Some days, Kenma would look out the window and see you practicing some form of a dance routine in your backyard. He would watch you for hours until you went inside, suddenly feeling shame for being so creepy.

Nearly every night, Kenma just wished he could turn his feelings off while simultaneously wishing you were next to him so he could hold you while he slept.

Your smile was his favorite. Seeing you smile every morning as the three of you walked to school together was what got him through his day. “Hey, hey are you guys coming to my dance competition tomorrow?” You asked in your typical, jovial lilt.

“Of course.” Was all he was able to reply, while Kuroo enthusiastically responded about their attendance.

“Great! I can’t wait to see you guys in the crowd!”

The “C” word, was almost enough to make Kenna regret his decision to come. Even more so when he was surrounded by the masses, all waiting to watch their respective dance teams. But it was for you, and he would do anything for you.

Kuroo was right beside him, a small bouquet of roses in his hand to give to you after you competed. The blood red flowers made Kenna glower and glare in secret, or as secretive as he could be. “I got these for you.” The captain says quietly, handing them over to his best friend.

“Sorry, Kuroo, I can’t say I return your feelings—“

“For you to give to her, you idiot.” 🤡🤡🤡 “I’m not that dumb, Kenma.” The setter really wanted to argue and say that he was, but your school’s dance team was up to perform so he opted to stay quiet.

Have I mentioned that Kenma loves watching you dance? There was a reason he would watch you practice in your backyard. You moved with elegance and grace that was foreign and so opposite to his own demeanor, it was no wonder he was always so captivated by you.

After you compete, there’s a bit of downtime between the other competitors and the awards ceremony, giving you the chance to hang out with your besties.

“These are for you.” The second year says quietly, handing you the bouquet with a blush dusting over his cheeks. The red rivaled that of the roses.

“Aw, thank you, Kenma!” You squeaked out before giving him a kiss on the cheek, his skin burning even hotter. Kuroo’s just over there laughing but ya know.

During the awards ceremony, you’re sitting in a circle with your team not too far from your friends while they announced that Nekoma had taken first. Everyone in the dance troupe began screaming and hugging each other, while you ran straight to your boys.

While still jumping, you were hugging Kuroo so tight, arms squeezing around his neck while sharing the joy. Which made Kenma just a little bit jealous.

Just a little.

Until you’ve settled down from your jumping before wrapping your arms his neck as well. But rather than going for a hug—

Wait what is hAPOENING

You brought your lips to his briefly before burying your face into his neck out of embarrassment because wHY you had thought that was a good idea was beyond you.

Deciding you couldn’t just keep holding onto him, because he was probably embarrassed too, you stepped away, ready to run back to your team. But Kenma didn’t let go, his arms seated securely at your hips as he stared at you.

“I-I’m sorry, I-I don’t know w-w—“

“I love you.”

Wanna see a specific character? Or a different head cannon? Want to see a whole story?

Send in requests!

601 notes · View notes

dajaregambler · 3 years ago

Text

HeliosR - Victor Valentine Card story “By all means….”

Translation of Victor Valentine’s 3* “ Waterfront City Guide” card story from ‘Helios Rising Heroes’.

Jacqueline: Eh, Victor-chama, you’ve eaten Italian gelato before?

Victor: Indeed, although it was quite some time ago.

Jacqueline: How was it? Was it tasty?

Victor: Generally speaking, it was a predictable taste. It could be said there’s quite the possibility of one’s expectations differing due it being a meal in a foreign country---

Marion: Oi, Jacqueline wants to know if it’s tasty or not.

Victor: Fufu, how rude of me…. If I had to say, I’m not of the sort to be particularly fond of ice cream on a normal basis.

Victor: Savoring the gelato alongside an authentic espresso was, in itself, considerably delicious…. is what I would say.

Marion: All of that just to answer yes. Learn to get to the point

Jacqueline: That’s so nice~ Victor-chama. Jacqueline wants to go to Italy and eat gelato too

Jack: Jacqueline・・・Aren’t you eating ice cream right now・・・

Jacqueline: I can eat as much ice cream as I want!

Jacqueline: The ice cream here at Helios museum is super tasty but, I still wanna taste gelato from Italy~

Jack: Is that so・・・

Jack: So you’ve gone on vacation in Italy, Victor?

Victor: Not as vacation, it was to mainly attend an academic conference.

Victor: Now that I think of it, you cleaning robots hadn’t been made yet at the time.

Jack: If it’s about a time I don’t know, then it must be when you were studying under Oswald?

Victor: Yes, I went to observe Oswald presenting at the academic conference. Together with Nova….

Marion: What….?

Victor: I have said it wasn't a vacation, however Nova was awfully in high spirits and treating it as one.

Marion: ………

Jack: Besides eating ice cream, what other things have the three of you done there?

Victor: Let me see…. I can only recall how magnificent the contents of Oswald's presentation were...

Marion: You’re kidding me

Victor: It’s the truth. What one deems to be vacation is something that I haven’t been interested in the past and neither now, which is why it hasn't made a lasting impression and…..

Victor: Ah, if I did have to say, it was a pleasant experience to be able to see various works of art and sightseeing spots which I’ve had the basic knowledge of up until then.

Victor: Especially in Florence, with Botticelli’s “Birth of Venus” and Michelangelo’s statue of David, and countless of other pieces of work depicting the Renaissance era

Victor: In Rome, we went around to see the Trevi Fountain and La Bocca della Verità, the colosseum and various other tourist attractions.

Marion: Eh?

Jack: While you said that it hadn’t left an impression, you unexpectedly did go see a lot

Marion: Trevi Fountain, La Bocca della Verità? Colosseum…..?

Marion: Have you been to Piazza di Spagna and Sant'Angelo too!?

Victor: ? Yes, we had more or less….

Marion: Ugh… uuuugh~....

Victor: What is it? Is that a sad… no, frustrated expression?

Marion: That’s not it!

Victor: Ah….I understand now. The places I have mentioned are all ones that were featured in that one movie.

Victor: You would repeatedly watch it over and over when you were very young….

Marion: !!

Victor: Even though it was a simple to understand romance movie, I remember observing you, thinking for what reason a child could be so fascinated by it.

Marion: T-that movie is not that simple….!

Marion: I’m sure you can enjoy the movie while holding that point of view, but that a lone woman could grow so splendidly in merely a day…..

Marion: It’s a masterpiece with so much to learn from, and it makes you think about every line of dialogue and scene!

Victor: Hm…

Marion: Wh-what… Don’t you have more to say?

Victor: No, nothing in particular….Rather I’m interested in what your interpretation is, by all means go on?

Marion: Gh, enough! I’m not saying anything else!

Victor: Oh my, that’s unfortunate. I wasn’t making a fool out of you, it came out of a place of genuine interest....

Victor: It ought to change the way one enjoys their trip when present at places featured in a movie they enjoy that much.

Victor: Speaking of which…. Nova had put his hand inside the mouth of La Bocca della Verità, being noisy about how it caught him, to think he was imitating the movie.

Victor: At last I’ve come to comprehend what it meant

Marion: …..I would’ve gotten it immediately

Nova: What, whaaat~? Could it be that it’s about me?

Marion: Nova!

Nova: Sorry~ Especially for being late for the tea party….

Jack: Has work settled down?

Nova: Aaah yeah, fortunately. Although there's a bunch of drone maintenance waiting for me back home….

Jacqueline: Victor-chama was telling about this vacation in Italy right now

Nova: Eh, vacation in Italy?

Nova: Wait don’t tell me, is it when I went together with Vic to my dad’s academic conference?

Nova: Been a while since then~ Honestly don’t remember a thing about the conference, but we did go around doing a lot of sightseeing in Florence and Rome

Marion: ………..

Nova: Wait Vic, remember how we threw coins into the Trevi Fountain?

Victor: ? In the Trevi Fountain….?

Nova: Yeah. My dad had told me how there’s a legend that if you toss a coin in there, your wish could come true

Nova: Although it’ll be granted depending of how many you throw in there, throwing one coin should at least make you able to go back to Rome once again

Nova: At the same time we said how we wanted to come back again and threw one in, I cleaaarly remember it you know~

Victor: ……. Did we, really do such a thing?

Nova: Geez~ we did! We aaaabsolutely did!

Victor: …….

Jacqueline: Jacqueline wants to get brought along when you go again. I wanna eat tasty gelato~

Nova: Of course you’ll come along. Jacqueline, Jack, Marion and Vic too. Let’s go with the five of us together

Marion: …..Together with him, you say

Nova: Isn’t it fine, Marion♪ We had wished it upon the Trevi Fountain, Vic has to absolutely come with us together

Victor: I’m telling you, I don’t recollect doing...

Nova: Yes, yes it’s all good. Aah it’ll be so much fun, we totally have to go together with all of us♪

Victor: …..Good grief. How overbearing

Notes:

The title is a reference to The Roman Holiday (1953), when Princess Anne declares at a certain point in the movie: Each, in its own way, was unforgettable. It would be difficult to - Rome! By all means, Rome. I will cherish my visit here in memory as long as I live. It is certain this is the same movie mentioned in the story.

#heliosR #helios rising heroes #victor valentine #marion blythe

13 notes · View notes

darkfairy-tales · 4 years ago

Text

Insanity - Chapter 3

Description: She was an angel who came across the devil himself and her existence drove him insane.

Pairing: Sangyeon x Reader

Genre: Mafia au

Warning: Mentions of blood. Swearing

The next day you had been on edge since the moment you woke up. You couldn't help but feel nervous about the party Sangyeon had mentioned. You couldn't help but keep thinking of Sangyeon too. He was a mystery. You couldn't figure him out. But he was an interesting person to you. Earlier he had texted you reminding you about the party to which you had replied that you remember it and that you don't have short term memory lost or things like that. You knew that you were being snappy but you didn't really care. An hour and a half before it turned 7 pm you had went to take a bath willing yourself to relax. You got out and slowly started to get ready taking your time. You settled for a light make up. Giving yourself a natural look. You let your hair down. The dress Sangyeon had gotten for you looked wonderful on you. It was the right fit which sort of surprised you. You wore the earring and necklace which went well with the dress. When you done giving yourself a final touch it was almost 7 pm already. You put your heels on and walked out of the house locking the door behind you.

Just on time a large expensive car pulls up in front of your house. The driver gets off and opens the door. You saw Sangyeon who had a smirk on, waving at you lightly. You huffed as you walked towards the car and got inside. The driver closing the door and then getting back to the driver seat as he starts the engine and drove towards where you assumed the party venue was. "You look beautiful princess." Sangyeon says. You glanced at him. He was wearing a beautiful suit which looked expensive and you think of how it must have costed a fortune. He looked hot if you were honest. Dangerous but tempting. He looked like a predator and unfortunately or fortunatelyyou felt like a prey under his gaze. You didn't really minded for some reason. "Thanks. You look great too." You mumbled as you looked away hiding your blush. The whole time on the way Sangyeon had his eyes trained on you and then looking away when you looked towards him. It didn't made you uncomfortable per say but you felt a little bit of nervousness in the pit of your stomach. Your let out the breath you didn't knew you were holding when the car stopped in front of a large hotel. You got out of the car along with Sangyeon. He takes your hand in his as he leads you inside the hotel. "Good evening Mr.Lee. Good evening ma'am." Some of the staffs greeted when you too walked in. Sangyeon nodded back at them. You did the same with a smile. You could see some of the female staffs glaring at you making you shift uncomfortably beside Sangyeon. "Good evening sir. I have been told to lead you to the hall. Please do follow me." A male staff said. "Lead the way then." Sangyeon said as both of you followed the staff.

He led you to the hall. You could hear the chatters and slow music playing in the party clearer and clearer as you got closer. "Here you go sir, ma'am. Enjoy the party." The staff said. The two guards guarding the door opened the door wide. It was as if all the spotlight fell on you and Sangyeon as everyone inside the hall turned back to look at you and Sangyeon. Some whispered to each other looking at you while some looked too surprised to say anything. "Let's go in princess." Sangyeon softly says to you as he leads you inside. Your arms hooked around his. "Smile. You look beautiful. Don't look too nervous. It will make you stand out more." Sangyeon says. You try to look relaxed as much as you can and give the people staring at you a smile. A middle aged man comes up to both of you grinning. "Oh hello Mr.Lee. I almost thought you were not coming but I see you did and also brought a beautiful date with you." The man says. Sangyeon gives the man a smile, which in your opinion was fake. "Well I had nothing much to do Mr.Chou. So I thought why not." Sangyeon said. "I see. So who is this beautiful woman?" The man asked looking at you up and down. You coughed a bit as the sudden attention. "I am Y/N. Nice to meet you." You said bowing a bit. "Such a lovely name. It is really nice meeting you." Mr.Chou says with a smile. "Anyway enjoy the party. I will go greet other guests." The man says as he walks away. Sangyeon leads you to the table filled with different types of food and drinks. "Stay here. Don't move. I am going to go have a talk with someone. You can eat anything here. Be wary of other people. Don't listen to anyone talking shit and most importantly don't trust and follow anyone." Sangyeon says. You just nod with a huff as he walks away.

"Jerk. Leaving me all alone in a party I have no idea about." You mumbled to yourself as you turned around the table filled with food. "What would you like to have ma'am?" A man, who seems to be a staff asked referring to the foods and drinks. "I am not sure. But I would like to drink something. Recommend me something." You said as you looked at all the drinks. "Non alcoholic or?" The man asked. "Yes non alcoholic please." You said with a smile. The man nodded as he picked up a blue drink handling it to you. "It is a mocktail called Blue Shoe. It is my personal recommendation." He said. You hummed as you took the glass and started drinking as you looked around all the people in the hall. Everyone seems to be socializing chatting with each other. You see Sangyeon chatting with some woman and you unconsciously narrow your eyes at them. "Who the hell is she?" you mumbled to yourself. "She is Im Chaerin." A voice answered for you. Surprised you turned around and saw a shorter male with blue hair. "Oh." You answered not really knowing what to answer. "I am Kim Hongjoong. Nice to meet you..." The man says trailing off. You noticed how he had such cute facial features. "Y/N. Nice to meet you too." You says as you finished off your drink. "You came with Sangyeon?" He asked. You hesitantly nodded. "Well that's a first. He doesn't really come in parties like this. More so he doesn't really bring anyone with him. You are a first. Many woman would be jealous. Especially with the fact that you are really attractive." Hongjoong says as he picks up a drink for himself.

"Are you here because you find me attractive too?" You asked raising your eyebrows. You didn't meant to sound cocky and shit but you were a bit curious. Hongjoong laughs at your questions. "I would have been attracted to you if I was single. But what can I say I am really loyal to my boyfriend." He says. "You are gay?" You asked for confirmation. "Bisexual. But I prefer man more." He says as he takes a sip of his drink. "How do you know Sangyeon?" You ask. "You can say we are kind of friends? Well we help each other in various ways. He is more closer to my boyfriend." He says. "Did you came with your boyfriend?" You asked as you put pick up another glass Blue Shoe Mocktail. "Yes. And I don't knew where the hell did he went." He huffs with an annoyed look. "I am sure he will come back looking for you." You said with a chuckle. "Oh well he better. Or else he is sleeping on the couch." He said sounding threatening making you laugh at his threat. You look back up to where Sangyeon was and you saw him walking back towards you, his eyes flickering between you and Hongjoong. "I don't know about mine. But your man surely is coming." Hongjoong says snickering. You blush at his words. "I hope I didn't took to long. And I see you have met Hongjoong." Sangyeon says. "You left your girl to talk to another girl. Y/N was glaring at you." Hongjoong says. His words making your flustered as you hit his arm blushing. "Oh is that so?" Sangyeon says, you swear you hear his cocky tone. "Shut up." You said glaring at him. "Hey baby." Another voice spoke up. You saw a man slightly taller than Hongjoong approach the said male. "Hey hwa." Hongjoong greets with a big smile. "Y/N meet him! He is my boyfriend. Park Seonghwa." He says with a bright smile. You internally cooed. They looked so good together. "Hi Seonghwa-ssi I am Y/N." You said with a little bow. "Nice to you meet you Y/N-ssi. I am guessing she is your date for tonight huh?" Seonghwa asked as he looks at Sangyeon smirking. "Yes you are right." Sangyeon answers putting his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. "Does she know?" Seonghwa asked. "Yeah. She is the one who saved me after I got shot." Sangyeon says and realization dawns on you. "You guys are also gangsters or so?" You asked turing to Seonghwa and Hongjoong. They both nodded smiling sheepishly. You look at them in awe. 'Was all gangsters this handsome and pretty?' You thought to yourself.

"Anyway me and Hongjoong here will head out. We have to return soon. You know how Wooyoung is. Can't leave him alone for long. He might burn down my house or shit." Seonghwa says. "Sangyeon hyung do give Y/N my number. I would love to be friends with her." Hongjoong said making Sangyeon nod and after saying their farewell they went away. "They are cool." You mumbled. "Do you want to go back?" Sangyeon asked. "Yep I would love to. I am hungry. But I don't want to eat here." You said as you looked around at all the people feeling out of place and uncomfortable. After all you weren't used to attending such big parties. "Come on then." Sangyeon says as he pulls you away out of the hall. You followed him without any words. Both of you got inside the lift and he pressed on the 5th floor. "Why are we going on the fifth floor?" You asked curious. "This hotel has a large restaurant in the 5th floor. Their food is amazing." Sangyeon shortly says. When you arrived on the fifth floor he leads to where the restaurant was. In the front you can see a large glass door. The staff standing beside the door opens it for both of you with a friendly smile. He walks towards the reception. "Table for two please." Sangyeon says. The staff scarmbles off to guide you two to a table. You two ordered for your food and ate it quietly but you decided to break the silence. "So was the party.. a gang party? or whatever you call it?" You asked. He looks at you amused. "Nope. Some gang leaders has legal business. We use these business to hide our illegal works. And the party was a business related. Not gang one." He answers. "Is Seonghwa the leader of a gang too?" You asked now curious about lots of things.

"No. Hongjoong is the actual leader. But you can say Seonghwa is too. Because well they are together and they work together as a team to get their gang going. And Seonghwa is also the one who handles their legal business." Sangyeon says. "Aren't you scared that I might go to police and tell everything about you?" You blurted out. He laughs at your words. "First of all I don't think you won't. I know that you won't. Second of all you think they can catch us?" He says confidently. "Don't be so cocky." You grumbled as you focused back on your food as he did the same. After both of you were done eating he paid for the food. Oddly it felt as if it was date but you didn't dare comment on it. Both of you got out of the hotel and went to where the car was parked. The driver opened the door for you and Sangyeon to get inside. After closing the door he got to the driver's seat and started the engine driving back to your house first. "You really do look beautiful today." Sangyeon says making you blush mumbling a small 'thank you'. You didn't dare look at him too flustered. He was making your heart beat so fast and you felt butterflies in your stomach. You stayed silent as he settled for looking at you the whole way back to your house.

The car parked at the front of your house when you finally reached. Sangyeon got out of the car and kept the door open for you. "Thanks you know. For coming with me today." Sangyeon said. He was glad that it was dark. He didn't wanted you to see the blush on his cheeks. "Thanks too. I enjoyed it." You said looking down shyly. He suddenly closes the gap between you two. His arms coming up to wrap around your waist pulling you closer to him. You look up at him, your heart beating fast, your cheeks burning as it turned red, feeling shy at how close you two were. He leaned in and placed a peck on your lips. It was fast. It ended fast and it left you frozen. "I think I would like to have you as mine." He said lowly making you shiver. He pulls away from you. Your knees weak from his words. "Go in. I am sure you would like some good rest." He says with his hands in the pockets of his pants. You nodded. "Goodnight! I will see you some time later!" You squeaked out as you literally ran inside your house. You could hear him chuckling behind you. "I will definitely see you again love. Goodnight princess." You heard him say. You quickly opened the door and went inside. With a last peek at him you shut the door closes as you leaned your back against it trying to catch your breath. 'Fuck my first kiss is gone' you internally screamed as your hand touched your own lips. That night you fell asleep, still feeling tingles on your lips where Sangyeon's lips were earlier. And you totally dreamed about the said man. You were fucked and you knew it.

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Hello guys! Sorry for not posting for so long. My assessment exam was going on so it was a bit hard to write anything. Again! Thank you so much for all these support. I really appreciate you all ❤❤❤

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please don't forget to like and reblog. Thank you again. I have also made a masterlist for Insanity seperately. Stay tuned for next chapter. Buiii 💞💞

45 notes · View notes

you-can-call-me-wanda · 4 years ago

Text

Oblivious

Pairing: Nasty Suicide x Reader (Requested)

Author’s Note: I kinda really like this one so I hope you do too!

Nasty stood in front of the dingy mirror in the backstage dressing room, running his fingers through is somewhat dirty locks of hair. Hanoi Rocks was set to take the stage in about a half an hour, so he and the rest of the band were currently preening and prepping for the show.

Andy and Michael were the only other two in the dressing room with Nasty. They too were busy adjusting scarves and jewelry and teasing their hair.

“Hey Nasse,” Andy called from across the tiny room, not bothering to turn his gaze away from his own reflection, “Did you hear (Y/N)’s coming tonight?”

Nasty dropped his hands from his head and turned to face Andy’s form. He frowned and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“No, why?” he asked.

Andy and Michael both looked away from what they were doing to share a smirk with the other. Nasty got the feeling they were up to something and did not like it one bit.

“What?” he pressed, now that both the other men were fully facing him with their stupid little smiles. “What is it?”

“Oh nothing,” Andy said, feigning innocence. “I just thought you’d like to know.” With that, he turned back to the mirror and began messing with the buttons of his blouse.

Now Nasty was even more confused. He turned to Michael who always seemed more reasonable than Andy in these types of situations.

“Mike,” Nasty practically whined, “why is it so important that (Y/N)’s coming to our show?”

Michael must have felt some pity for the boy because he did supply a little bit more of an answer to his question than Andy had.

“It’s really not that important,” Mike said with a sympathetic smile. “We just thought maybe you’d want to know.”

“But why?” Nasty asked again, beginning to grow frustrated with all the secretive looks his mates were sharing and their avoidance of answering the question. “Just tell me,” he demanded, crossing his arms and setting his friends with a firm look.

“Oh my god,” Andy groaned. “It’s like everyone knows but you. I swear you and (Y/N) are the two most oblivious people I know.”

Nasty opened his mouth to ask even more questions, but Michael beat him to speaking.

“Look Nasty, we love you man, but are you really that daft? You and (Y/N) totally have the hots for each other,” Mike said whilst fixing Nasty with an exasperated look and turned away from his friend to reapply his lipstick.

Nasty, meanwhile, was having a mini aneurism. Him and (Y/N)? What? No, they were just friends. It wasn’t like that. Or was it? Suddenly, he was thinking back to all the times you and he had spent together. All those nights when you had come back to the house after a gig and stayed up with him and the guys all night. Those times where the two of you had gotten bored after everyone had gone to sleep or passed out and had gone out and rode the underground for hours, just talking and laughing. You hadn’t needed anything more than each other’s company. He thought back to the nights where the two of you got completely shit-faced after a night at the pub and danced and sang at the top of your lungs in the London streets until the neighbors threatened to call the cops. He remembered the night you came to him crying after your landlord had kicked you out. How he’d let you spend the night in his room with him. He remembered thinking how beautiful you looked, even when you were sleeping and hogging all the covers. He thought about all the hugs you had shared, all the smiles you had gifted him, and all the corny jokes you’d made him laugh with.

Oh shit. He was in love with you.

“Oh shit.”

Michael and Andy both broke out into cackling laughter at Nasty’s expense. The poor boy looked like he had come to the biggest realization of his life.

“You really didn’t know?” Andy asked through fits of laughter. “Everyone else did.”

If it was possible, Nasty’s eyes grew even wider. “What do you mean everyone else did? Does (Y/N) know?” he asked, panicking at the idea of you having realized he had feelings for you before even he did.

“Well,” Michael said, “everyone but (Y/N) knows.”

Nasty let out a small sigh of relief. Nervously, he reached up to tug at his hair. “What do I do now?” he asked his friends. “Should I say something? What if (Y/N) doesn’t like me back?” He was now stressing over how he was going to keep his cool when he saw you tonight.

Andy barked out another laugh and clapped Nasty on the shoulder. “Relax mate, (Y/N) likes you too.”

“They do?”

“Oh my god, that’s what we’ve been trying to tell you,” Michael said, resisting the urge to facepalm. “I think the two of you should talk after the show, get this all sorted out, because if this nonsense keeps going on for any much longer the rest of us are going to lose are minds.”

“Nonsense?” Nasty asked, but at this point in the conversation his mind was focused on a million different things. He liked (Y/N). (Y/N) liked him. Everyone knew. It was a lot for him to process in less than ten minutes.

“You two keep dancing around each other and the way you feel and it’s making me sick,” Andy responded. “So we’re gonna go play our show and afterwards when you see (Y/N), you are confessing your feelings,” Andy said. Nasty almost felt like he was being scolded.

“But-”

“Or I’m telling (Y/N) how you feel,” Andy threatened. “Now let’s go. It’s almost time for us to take the stage.”

The show went by in a haze for Nasty. He played fine, but his mind was entirely elsewhere. How was he supposed to confess his feelings for you, especially when he just realized them himself? He was so caught up in his own thoughts, he barely recognized that their set had ended. It wasn’t until Sami began nudging him offstage did he realize it was over.

He knew you would be backstage waiting for him and the rest of the band. You always were when you attended one of their gigs. The six of you would leave the venue shortly after and typically hit up a pub or two afterwards.

Nasty made a beeline for the dressing room the second he stepped foot off the stage. He didn’t lift his head up and look around for you. No, he was too terrified that he’d catch your eye and have to go over and talk to you. He wasn’t ready! All that time spent thinking on stage and he still had no idea how to tell you how he felt.

Looking in the mirror, he tried to hype himself up.

It’s just (Y/N). You’ve been friends for years. You can do this.

Nasty decided to change clothes before he went to speak with you. Not only because the hot lights of the stage had made him all sweaty and uncomfortable, but because he wanted to look a little more presentable for when he saw you.

He always brought a spare shirt with him to gigs since he normally sweated through his stage clothes. It wasn’t anything fancy, just some random t shirt thrown into his bag. Now, he was wishing he had thought out what he had brought a little more carefully. There was nothing inherently wrong with the spare shirt he had brought, it just didn’t do him any favors. What was once a plain black t shirt was now a thin, faded grey shirt with various stains of unknown origin on it. Not to mention, it was a size or two too small for him.

Not really having any other choice, he threw the shirt on and examined his reflection in the mirror. He looked like he normally would when he saw you, a little sweaty, hair all tangled up, mismatched clothes and accessories thrown on. How could Andy possibly think that you would like him back? You always looked so good, so effortlessly cool and he, well he looked like a sewer rat.

A knock at the door jolted him out of his pity party.

“Come in!” he called out, assuming it was just one of his bandmates checking to make sure he wasn’t naked before barging in.

To his surprise though, it was you who opened the door to the dressing room. At the sight of your face, Nasty swallowed thickly with nerves.

“Hey,” you greeted, smiling easily, “Andy told me I could find you in here.”

“Oh,” Nasty said, trying to muster up any coherent sentence to say to you. “Oh,” he said again. He cursed himself internally for not being able to come up with anything smooth or witty.

You didn’t seem to take any notice though. Instead, you hopped up onto the table sitting in the corner of the room and took a seat.

“Andy said you wanted to talk to me,” you said, tilting your head to the side and examining the man in front of you. Nasty seemed on edge, which was unusual for him. He was normally so carefree, the life of the party. He had even appeared to be a little nervous on stage too.

“He did?” Nasty asked, not meeting your eyes. His gaze focused on your feet instead, swinging back and forth as they hung off the edge of the table.

“Yeah,” you answered, perplexed by his shy behavior. “Is something wrong? You seem off,” you pointed out.

Finally, he lifted his head to meet your worried eyes. “Um, yeah, everything’s fine,” he stammered. “I just, um, well.”

“Just what?” you urged gently. Whatever it was that was bothering your friend, you wanted to be there to help him out with it.

Nasty cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “(Y/N), I um, well, I really like you. You’re one of my best friends.”

“I really like you too dumbass,” you said with a chuckle. “That’s what you had to tell me?”

In this moment, Nasty knew he had two options. He could agree with you, laugh it off, and pretend he had nothing more to say. He could do that, or he could continue. He could tell you how he really felt. He could take the risk of losing you or making things awkward by confessing his love. He thought back to Michael assuring him that you felt the same way and Andy threatening to tell you the truth if Nasty wouldn’t. He decided to take the risk.

“Well no. That’s not all,” he said.

Nasty’s voice got all quiet and serious. You had never really seen him like this before. You straightened your back and strained to listen to what he had to say.

“I don’t know how I didn’t realize it before. I guess I just never took a step back and looked at things,” he said, biting his lip. “I guess it’s been fairly obvious to other people though,” he said, huffing out a small laugh. “I think I’m in love with you (Y/N). I want to be more than just best friends with you.”

It was silent after his confession. All you could do was stare at him. His words were still ringing in your head. Nasty loved you? Nasty wanted to be more than just friends?

Nasty took your surprised expression as a bad sign. Clearly, you hadn’t seen this coming and were trying to process what he had just revealed to you. Clearly, you didn’t feel the same.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. He swallowed the lump forming in the back of his throat and continued to apologize. “I shouldn’t have said anything at all. I’m so sorry (Y/N). Andy and Mike, they tried to tell me it was a good idea to let you know, but I shouldn’t have listened to them. God, I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I?”

His apologies shook you out of your state of shock. You hurriedly hopped off the table you were sitting on and rushed to the rambling boy who was now looking very distraught.

“No, no, Nasty, don’t apologize!” you said, grabbing onto his upper arms. “It’s okay, nothing’s ruined.”

“How is it not ruined?” Nasty said in a much louder voice now. He was obviously getting very worked up and upset. “How can we go back to being friends after what I just said?”

You soothingly ran your hands up and down his arms, trying to calm him. “I thought you said you wanted to be more than just friends?” you asked lightly, giving his biceps a gentle squeeze.

“What?”

“I thought you wanted to be more than friends. So why does it matter if things can’t go back to the way they were before?”

Nasty looked deep into your eyes, searching for any form of deception. “What are you trying to say?” he asked.

“I’m trying to say that I think I love you too,” you said, moving your hands up to caress along his jawline. “I’m trying to say that I feel the same way.”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” you mocked.

“So, it would be okay if I kissed you?” he asked, looking down longingly at your lips.

“Please.”

#nasty suicide #nasty x reader #nasty suicide x reader #nasty suicide imagine #hanoi rocks #hanoi rocks x reader #hanoi rocks imagine #wanda writes

60 notes · View notes

aprils-arcadia · 4 years ago

Text

A Weekend in Rome

Pairing: Kihyun x Reader Genre: Fluff Word Count: 2,2k Summary: Your business trip to Rome turned out completely different from what you’d imagined, as your attractive co-worker decided to accopany you.

You never really like rules. It was easier to not restrict yourself, in the end you would just be disappointed with yourself for not being able to follow them. So you only had one thing that could be considered a rule. A simple one that you had just put out there for yourself to keep an eye out. You never really thought that you would find yourself in a situation that required you to listen to yourself. Your rule had been to never date or get romantically involved with a co-worker or to simply fall for one. The emphasis lies on the ‘had been’ because at this very moment you couldn't be further away from following it.

You were sitting in a cafe and fidgeted with the sugar packets, neatly putting them in their container and then spilling it out again to arrange them differently. It wasn't out of boredom, rather out of pure nervousness with a slight hint of terror.

When you had agreed to come to this conference you never would have dreamed that the head of marketing would tag along. You had envisioned this trip as a nice getaway, a possibility to work with it not feeling like work at all.

Rome had been a dream destination for you since you were little and to have the opportunity to go there for a long weekend with it being completely paid by your company had made it even better. You only had to attend a few talks and give a 30-minute presentation yourself, easy peasy. The rest of the time you would have been free to roam the city and to do every touristy and non-touristy thing you could think of. This plan had been crossed effortlessly by Yoo Kihyun himself.

The small cafe near the venue was nearly empty apart from you and Kihyun, who now made his way back to you, two coffees in hand. He sported you a bright smile and sat down opposite of you. You quickly grabbed the sugar packets that were still sprawled over the entire table and shoved them into the container, ruining your last 5 minutes of meticulous work. You tried to smile back at him but knew that this was not your usual charming professional smile but the awkward smile of your thirteen-year-old self trying to talk to a boy. You had been thoroughly convinced that you had dropped that bashful, clumsy version of yourself ages ago. But here you were surprising yourself in the most uncalled for and unwanted way possible.

"I gotta say you were pretty impressive up there," Kihyun loosened the slim black tie around his neck and opened the top button. It was a hot day, the sun almost at its highest point grilling all that stood in its way. Part of you missed the wonderfully climated hall you had spent the last 3 hours in because now the only thing that cooled you slightly was the soft fresh breeze which gradually flowed through the stuffy mediterranean air. He rolled up the sleeves of his button down without breaking eye contact. And with that simple course of action he made the day a little hotter. You felt your ears slowly turn red as you tried to look as normal as you could even after the unexpected compliment and now the slow transition from business to casual was messing with your brain considerably.

You couldn't be serious. This wasn't your first date. In fact you didn't know if this could even be called a date. You had held your presentation an hour ago and afterwards he just asked you to grab coffee.

That is all this was.

That is all this was, you repeated to yourself. But you had no chance in avoiding how handsome the man before you was. You had seen him in a few board meetings before and even though your two departments usually worked closely together you seldomly had any face-to-face contact with him since his office was in a different building complex. Luckily for you, because even though you never really fell for him, which would definitely be against your rule, you still were very much attracted to him and had trouble staying focused in the very few times you actually occupied the same space just like now.

"Thanks," you were able to mumble. You took your coffee from the tray and gave him a small nod.

"So tell me more about what you found out.”

After hearing those words you immediately relaxed. This wasn't a date. Not at all. He just wanted to talk to you about your work. That you could do. There was no reason to be awkward, this was strictly professional. You sighed in relief and started to explain all the various components of your talk and went further into detail. He listened to you attentively while sipping his coffee.

"So as I said it is extremely vital to continue monitoring -"

"-You know I gotta say I like you better that way"

"Excuse me?"

"Well you seemed really uncomfortable since I invited you. It's nice to see you relax a bit. Makes me feel less like I am forcing you out on a date"

"A....a date?"

"Yeah a date. Did I not make that clear?" He looked a little lost and you could clearly see the gears inside his head turning. "I'm sorry. I really thought that would have been obvious." He chuckled and you were completely unable to focus.

Your response probably took you longer than it was comfortable for both parties. But you couldn't believe that you got this all wrong. So this was supposed to be a date. Well that changed things. Or did it really? If you were comfortable talking to him a second ago why would you now be this damn flustered. Sure he was intimidatingly perfect and having taken an interest in him over the last year or so made you not wanting to screw up. So sure nervousness was perfectly appropriate. Still this was your chance. Your chance to get to know him. And what did you plan to do, run? Like hell that would be a good idea. You were here, he was here and you were in goddamn Rome having clearly left your one rule at the airport. So screw it. Might as well make the best of it.

You brushed a stray strand of hair back over your ear and mustered your courage.

"I’m sorry. A date sounds great and it gives us some time to get to know each other and even though we've been working together for a year now I hardly know you."

"Well it's not like you ever gave me a chance. You usually just rush out of the meetings I am part of and I rarely see you at the cafeteria." You knew exactly why you didn't try to get any close to him because you would have probably fallen for him instantly. As you were doing now.

“I mean I could have asked you out via email but let's be honest that would have been really weird. Attached you can find the overview we discussed and also would you be interested in grabbing a coffee with me' I don't think so." You giggled.

"Actually I got one of those once. From Minhyuk in sales. I really didn't know how to respond”

"Funny I got one or those as well." Both of you burst out into laughter.

“But seriously though. It's like whenever I see you, you are running all over the place your bright yellow binder in hand. And I never see you at the cafeteria. You're really not that easy to get close to."

"I'm sorry I feel like I was just dashing through life the last couple of months. I mean you know how stressful the whole project was. So I never really had time to myself or for others"

“Well sounds to me like it’s about damn time you had some fun.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you from your seat, quickly wrapping an arm around your waist to prevent you from stumbling. You were close to him. Too close. You could feel the heat rushing towards your head and forgot to breathe for what felt like forever. His face was now only a few inches away from you. Your eyes were drawn towards his lips and for a split second you couldn’t stop your mind from going places you had tried to avoid. You could just simply kiss him, it would be so easy. The only thing you’d had to do would be to place your hand on the back of his neck and slowly draw him in. You could do that. Probably.

“So where do you wanna go first? I know some really nice spots”

You steadied your footing and straightened your skirt steadily brushing away the wrinkles and the thoughts that were filling your head. “Sure surprise me”

And surprise you he did. You spend most of the day going from gallery to museum and marveled at the beautiful architecture. Your plan had only involved the mainstream tourist spots, the blatantly obvious go to spots. But it was paling in comparison to the places he showed you.

He excitedly told you everything he knew about the places he showed you all the while never leaving your side. You tried your best to let your eyes remain on the things he was telling you about but ever so often you couldn’t stop yourself from admiring the man beside you.

The bright midday sun was highlighting the sharp edges of his face making it look even more perfect than it already was. His laugh and smile were intoxicating, making you smile brightly everytime and making you want to spend every waking second of this weekend with him. Seeing him wildly gesticulate in the air because words were not enough to convey his excitement, seeing his eyes light up when he noticed how interested you were and most of all making you feel like you were the only thing that mattered. He was able to casually take your hand whenever it was necessary to not lose you or simply because just standing next to you didn’t cut it.

“How do you even know of these places?” you had asked him once you entered a quiet alley looking for a specific restaurant he’d been talking about for the whole day.

“Well I spent the last few years at this conference, just with a different employer. So once I got the main touristy things out of the way I got bored and started to wander around, talked to locals, that kind of thing. I mean touristy spots aside those small places have their own charm and they are not so damn crowded all the time” you turned a corner.

The alley you had entered was gorgeous and it looked like an old painting or at least a picture perfect little world. The narrow cobblestone path wound around the houses. Not the straight lines of streets that dictated where you were going but rather like a little stream that was built gradually to connect the houses without wanting to disturb any of them. The buildings were overgrown with ivy and every house seemed to have their own little hanging garden perched upon the small balconies. Everything was framed in green and a few radiant specks of colour in the form of tiny flowers. You hadn’t moved but were just admiring the view. Trying to take it all in and commit it to memory.

“Ah there we are” The place he pointed to was a small window front, not more than the little shops at home that had been neatly arranged next to each other. It only had a few chairs outside.

“Come on. Let’s eat”

Kihyun was standing right beside you and took your hand, gently guiding you towards a free table. “

The meal had been delicious and after it was over none of you had the intention of leaving instead you spent the rest of the evening talking until the sun was slowly setting. The twilight illuminated the small world you were currently lost in. Sitting in this tiny restaurant and talking to the man you had tried so hard to avoid.

Giving in had been so easy. You didn’t want to fall in love, hell you even went to such length as to not give him any chance to really talk to you. And absolutely you were right. Because right now that mushy feeling in your stomach had grown to a size you could no longer ignore. No you didn’t want to fall in love but you sure as hell were. He’s shown you his favorite places, the hidden gems in his tour all putting one thought in your head that you couldn't shake: He seems to like you. Or was he just playing with you? Taking you along to not spend the weekend alone and ditching you once you were back home? Maybe just maybe he’d be capable of this. And let’s be honest just because you were getting attached wouldn’t mean he’d do the same, now would it. But right now you didn’t care. Even if he was just playing some wicked game with you, you had already fallen too deep. Too deep to realize it even if you wanted to and too deep to care that he might destroy that little world of yours in 2 days time.

#mx #mostax #fanfiction #monstax fanfiction #Yoo Kihyun #Kihyun fluff #kihyun x reader #aprils fanfiction #aprils arcadia

23 notes · View notes

fanfictionaries · 4 years ago

Text

Oh So Many Years: Ch. 5 - It Was You

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fred Weasley

Summary:

Just when Hermione thought nothing worse could plague her than her constant nightmare, she has a very different kind of dream. How is she ever going to look Ronald in the face again? All she wanted was to do well in her classes, get S.P.E.W. off the ground, and finally get a good nights sleep.

Fred continues to find himself more than amazed at the infinite facets of Hermione Granger.

Warnings: Swearing, Death, Smut/18+ NSFW

Author’s Note: A second update this week because I like you guys so much! :)

I will now be updating this story every week before midnight on Sundays (US MST)! Please feel free to like, comment, and reblog! xoxo

Masterlist

<< Chapter 4

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Moments fall like crimson nights Some stick to my skin tonight Take a breath and shake them off Eyes ahead, don't you wait too long

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“If I have to write one more word about the goblin rebellions, I think I might off myself.” Ron threw down his quill, ink splotching across this parchment, and let his head fall into his hands.

“Be careful. If you do, I guarantee Professor Trelawney will say she predicted it all along because Venus was in retrograde and you’re a Pisces,” Harry responded flatly, resulting in a smile from Ron.

Hermione would never admit it, but she secretly agreed with Ron. While not quite as distressed as her ginger friend, she did find the weekly essays assigned by Professor Binns tedious and incredibly lacking in challenge. Perhaps she found the whole thing tiresome because she already knew everything there was to know about the goblin rebellions, but it also didn’t help that the ghostly professor was about as exciting as an old shoe.

“Hermione…” Ron drew out her name like he had just come to an idea. Hermione, very familiar with this tone, knew exactly what his idea was.

“No,” she responded sternly, scribbling away at her own parchment about the various defense tactics utilized by the goblins.

“Pleeeaaase?”

“No.”

“Pleeeeeeaaaaaaase?”

She sighed. “I will edit and revise Ronald Weasley, and nothing more.”

“You’re the best, honestly.” Ron grinned and picked up his quill again, dipping it in his ink and scribbling away with renewed energy. His stupid grin made Hermione smile and roll her eyes before returning to her own essay. While she wished that Ron and Harry could just do their own work themselves, she did realize that not everyone had the discipline that she had. However, that didn’t mean she had to stop trying to get them to work harder. She knew for a fact that their potential far exceeded their marks.

They worked in silence for a while, the scratching of quill on parchment and shuffle of students walking past filling Hermione’s ears as her brain turned over, pulling out fact after fact.

In a blazing sense of pride, she finished her last sentence, tying her conclusion together perfectly, and placed her quill down on the table. At the click, both Ron and Harry looked over to her with wide eyes of disbelief.

“You’re finished already?” gaped Harry.

“I’ve barely gotten three paragraphs written. How can you possibly be finished already?!” exclaimed Ron. Hermione shushed him, glancing over at Madame Pince’s disapproving glare.

“Some of us, Ronald, utilize our time efficiently,” Hermione responded coolly as she placed her things back into her bag. She didn’t bother mentioning that she spent her last three hours in the library as opposed to their meager thirty minutes, or that she took her break after morning Transfiguration to study as well. Her eyes itched from staring at off-white pages and black script and for once she finished all her work and read ahead in all her classes. It probably had something to do with the fact that she was attending five less classes than the previous year.

There was also the small fact that she no longer slept. Nearly a month into school and she still barely slept four hours a night. When panic inducing nightmares weren’t causing her to toss and turn, she was studying. And when she wasn’t studying, she was working on her new endeavor – the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, otherwise known as S.P.E.W. Ever since the Quidditch World Cup and the horrid treatment of Winky, the house elf, she knew she had to do something. This became even more clear when she found out Hogwarts was run almost entirely on house elf labor. In all her years never did she imagine that her beloved school used essentially slavery to cook and clean. It was wrong. It was barbaric. One would assume that in a world filled with magic, where one was only limited to the bounds of one’s imagination, they would be a bit more progressive. Unfortunately, though, it seemed to be the opposite. In fact, Hermione had never met a group of people so routed in their ways as the wizarding world. Of course, it would be foolish to assume that an entire world would be impermeable to prejudices when the muggle world was not.

Therefore, where all of her time was normally spent in the Gryffindor common room with Harry and Ron or watching the Gryffindor quidditch team practice on the pitch, she now spent it nose deep in a book or attempting to recruit new S.P.E.W. members. Her absence had not gone unnoticed – in fact, it became so blatantly clear that Harry confronted her outright between Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures.

“I don’t understand Hermione, is it something I’ve done?” Harry ran a hand through his unruly locks, distress obvious on his face.

“No, it’s nothing you’ve done Harry,” Hermione picked at her nails, feeling uncomfortable.

“Was it, Ron? I’m sure whatever he said, he didn’t mean it.” Hermione ignored the grating irritation at Harry’s blind defense of Ronald.

“No, it’s not Ron.”

“Then what? Come on Hermione, you know you can tell me anything.”

Hermione looked at her best friend and sighed. His kind eyes shone from behind his round spectacles with sincerity and concern.

“I’m not avoiding you or Ron. I’m just stressed about our O.W.L.s next year—" she paused “—You can never be too prepared, and I need to do well on them.”

Harry looked at her with a confused expression, “Hermione, they’re not for another year! Are you seriously stressing over something so far away?”

“Yes? No? I guess…I guess I’m just used to studying all the time. You know, what with the time-turner last year and all. And then of course there’s S.P.E.W. No one seems to care at all that these poor elves are being worked day and night without any pay. I mean, it’s horrendous!” Hermione half-lied, feeling stupid as the words left her mouth. She wanted to be honest with Harry, but she didn’t know how. The real reason felt stupid. What was she to say? Sorry I’ve thrust myself into my work more than ever Harry; I just can’t stop having nightmares about something that happened nearly two months ago and I’m trying to distract myself.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, “I get it.”

“You do?” His remark caught her off guard as she wasn’t even sure if she understood it.

“You’re an absolute swot. Don’t get me wrong, we all love that about you, but you need to learn when to relax and have some fun,” Harry finished with a grin.

“You prat—” Hermione hit his arm with the back of her book “—Don’t call me a swot. But you’re right. I need balance.”

“And I guess as appointed Secretary of S.P.E.W., I could do a bit more for the cause.”

Hermione lit up at the words. “Really? Oh Harry, thank you so much! I’m making more buttons tonight, maybe you could help me? Then tomorrow we can try and canvas some of the other houses for new members!”

“Well, if you’re so efficient, you should be able to help me finish mine!” argued Ron desperately, bringing Hermione back to the present.

“Ronald, I told you before. I’m not doing your assignment for you. You have to learn it on your own,” she whispered.

“When am I ever going to need to know about all the goblin leaders? Besides, you like doing this sort of stuff.”

“Ronald, I said n—”

“Lovers’ quarrel?”

Merlin, Hermione thought at the sound of unified voices. Rolling her eyes, she turned to see Fred and George standing behind her.

“Hey Fred, hey George,” Harry greeted them cheerfully, placing his quill down – happy for an excuse to stop working.

“Hullo Harry,” they responded in unison.

“Any progress on entering our names for the tournament?” Ron asked expectantly. Much to Hermione’s disproval, Fred and George promised him a try at whatever they whipped up as soon as they knew it was successful, and Ron had not stopped talking about it.

“We’re nearly there,” George grinned.

“So, we’ll know in about two days whether it works or not,” said Fred, leaning against a bookshelf casually. Two days? Hermione thought with alarm. Was it really the 29th of October already? That meant the students from Beauxbaton and Durmstrang, the other competing schools, were to arrive tomorrow evening! She needed to go back to her dormitory and rework her schedule. She had no room to pencil in excitement and new student arrival that week. She opened her planner to begin revising.

“How confident are you that it’ll work?” asked Ron, leaning forward in excitement.

“Extremely,” the twins answered.

Hermione let out an indecent snort and rolled her eyes again. Fools.

“Something you’d like to add Granger?” asked George, looking over at her.

“Yes, hullo to you also. So nice of you to acknowledge us in a friendly manner,” accused Fred sarcastically.

“I think some lessons are best learned through experience, rather than lecture,” said Hermione, carefully picking her words before tucking her planner into her bag and slinging it over her shoulder.

“But you love to lecture us, are you sure you aren’t raring to tell us how wrong we are?” asked Fred, fluttering his eyelashes sweetly.

Hermione gave a short laugh, “Please. I know a lost cause when I see one.”

“A lost cause? You hear that Georgie? We’re a lost cause.”

“I don’t know…sounds to me like she’s just afraid of a challenge Freddie.”

“It’s not a challenge if all I’m doing is slowly melting my brain trying to reason with the pair of you,” scoffed Hermione.

“Oh, I can melt your brain just fine, if that’s what you’d like,” stated Fred, stepping forward cockily.

“Is your wit really so primitive that you have to resort to sexual innuendo all the time?” Hermione asked, her heart rate picking up in her chest as their conversation turned more heated.

“Sexual innuendo? I have no idea what you’re referring to Granger. I was merely saying I might be smarter than you think. Are you sure you aren’t projecting a bit there?”

“You’re a child,” Hermione bit back, feathers ruffled that Fred seemed to be over his initial shock response to her comebacks and instead was meeting her beat for beat. His eyes held a shine to them as he smiled down at her in excitement.

“Resorting to name-calling now? I thought higher of you,” sighed Fred, tapping the end of her nose condescendingly. Hermione batted his hand away, feeling her hair begin to crackle. She was getting too upset. She needed to calm down and show him that she was better than him.

Taking a small, calming breath, she straightened her posture before replying, “That doesn’t surprise me Frederick. I’m sure it’s easy to think highly of me when your potential is so low.”

Hermione took that moment to make her exit. Turning on her heel, she walked out of the library, not bothering to say goodbye to anyone. A warm flush covered her face and bled down her neck as she scurried through the halls. Adrenaline pumped through her system. Despite his ample fight, she felt quite confident that she won the battle. His lack of biting response as she left, supported as much. Departing before he could speak might have been a cheap way to go about it, but she reasoned there was no clean way to fight when it came to the Weasley twins. A small giggle bubbled up in her chest as she replayed the conversation in her head. Invigorated by the whole event, she ran the rest of the way to the Gryffindor tower. Rounding corners and sprinting up staircases, exhaustion filled her small frame by the time she came upon the portrait of the Fat Lady. Her lungs ached from the exercise and her shoulder and back ached from the heavy books weighing her bag down. She gasped the password through pants and entered as she tried to catch her breath. Fellow Gryffindors cast odd looks in her direction as she scurried up the stairs to the girls’ dormitories, but she didn’t care. Her room was empty and for that she was grateful. The last thing she wanted was a forced conversation with Lavender or Pavarti. Perhaps the physical exertion would act as a sleeping agent and she would finally fall into a deep and peaceful sleep. Best to ride the wave and go to bed while I’m still tired¸ she thought. Sluggishly, she changed out of her uniform and crawled into bed. Nagging thoughts tugged at the back of her mind, telling her to brush her teeth, but the exhaustion in her body told her to sleep. Ultimately her body won, and sleep took over.

Hermione’s mind swam the next day as she sat in double potions with the Slytherins. It was nearing the end of class and Professor Snape was taking the time to explain to them why their potions had been improperly brewed in one way or another. Hermione’s hadn’t of course, but that didn’t stop him from berating her for being an ‘insufferable little know-it-all’, and then accusing her of helping any student that didn’t manage to burn a hole in their cauldrons. She diligently took notes as Snape droned on and on, but her mind failed to connect to the words she was writing down on the parchment. All thoughts and worries were currently focused on an embarrassing personal crisis. The dream.

While Hermione thought nightmares were the worst thing, she could possibly endure in her sleeping state, she had to admit she had been wrong. No, apparently there was something much, much worse stewing in her brain waiting for vulnerable unconsciousness to leap out and take form.

She had been in the library, wandering through the sections of towering shelves when she appeared in a section, she was unfamiliar with. Turning a corner her eyes grew wide at the sight of two older students locked in an intimate embrace. Her heart started to race, and her breathing began to pick up as she felt a tingling sensation in the pit of her stomach. She tried to leave but found herself unable to move – her feet glued to the floor. That’s when she felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist and a pair of lips kissing up her neck. Her hands went up, one grabbing at the fingers that dug roughly into her flesh and the other threading itself through long thick hair. She turned her head only to see that the hair between her fingers was a brilliant shade of ginger. The realization was so shocking to her that she awoke from her dream, sitting ramrod straight – heart pounding, sweat-slicked, and breathing heavily.

Her face blushed just thinking about it. Turning her head casually to the right, she spied one of her best friends. Ronald Weasley sat next to Harry, slumped forward in his seat, head resting in his hand. His long hair hung way past his eyes, concealing them completely. Hermione, knowing Ron, would bet on her life that they were closed, and he was verging on sleep. She knew he wasn’t fully asleep though, because if he were there would be loud snores coming from his direction. Him. He was the one her mind decided to fantasize about. Why? She studied him, her eyes tracing the freckles on the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t bad looking; she always quite liked his hair and pale complexion. He had a kind heart and could be quite charming when he wanted to be, the problem was that rarely did he want to be. He could be quite cruel and insensitive without knowing it, and he didn’t care for much other than Quidditch. Is that really what she wanted in a partner? Hermione scoffed at her mental ramblings. Here she was, wondering if Ronald Weasley were her potential first love without considering that he would probably never be interested in her. After all, her hair was a bushy, frizzy mess, her teeth were far too big for her mouth, and her otherwise plain features left much to be desired. Not to mention her overall swotty personality. Still, hadn’t he told her that she was ‘the best’? And he certainly didn’t mind being her friend. What if he did like her?

“Miss Granger, is there something on Mr. Weasley’s face that’s so interesting that you cannot be bothered to pay attention?” The sound of Professor Snape’s voice brought Hermione out of her thoughts, and she looked up to find all eyes on her. The Slytherins snickered around her, and Ron and Harry looked at her in surprise. Hermione felt her face flush with embarrassment.

“No Professor, my apologies,” she mumbled, looking down at her notes.

“Five points from Gryffindor for Miss Granger’s lack of interest. Class dismissed,” snipped Professor Snape as he turned towards his office. Hermione packed her bag and exited the classroom as quickly as possible.

“What was that all about?” Harry asked, him and Ron catching up to her with ease.

“Sorry guys, I got lost in thought and didn’t realize where I was looking. I guess I should have been paying attention,” Hermione stammered, readjusting her bag on her shoulder.

“No problem Hermione. Snape’s a git and no one blames you. I was almost asleep near the end there too,” Ron piped in with a friendly smile. Hermione felt her stomach flip.

“Thanks Ronald.” She smiled back.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a couple of love birds, boys,” Draco Malfoy sneered as he came up beside them. “When’s the wedding? I’m sure it’ll be just lovely, or at least as lovely as five knuts’ll get you.”

Hermione scowled at the silver-hair bully, with all his sharp pointed features and disgustingly greasy demeanor, as he laughed along with his goons. She rolled her eyes and grabbed both Harry and Ron by the arm, leading them on towards the front of the castle. Ridiculous. That’s what she was being. It was ridiculous to waste her time worrying about some absurd dream when that’s all it was – a dream. Besides, she didn’t know for certain it was Ron who she dreamed about. There were plenty of red heads in the world.

Outside the main entrance they found Ginny next to Neville in a crowd of students.

“Did we miss anything?” asked Ron, looking excitedly about.

“Nothing yet, you’ve made it just in time I think!” Ginny exclaimed in glee. The castle was in a fit of excitement. Even the Slytherins, who didn’t find much joy in anything school related, seemed to be chomping at the bit for their guests to arrive and the Triwizard Tournament to finally take off. Hermione, too, was excited but more at the thought of getting to meet students from other magical schools. She had taken the liberty of reading as much as she could on the histories of both Durmstrang and Beauxbaton and was informing Ginny on their key similarities and differences when several gasps and shouts erupted around them.

“Look!” Ginny yelled, pointing up at the sky above them. Hermione followed her finger upwards to see a large horse-drawn carriage flying through the clouds, pulled by a dozen flying horses the size of elephants. She watched as they soared through the air, their wings pumping up and down in synchronization. The size of the horses was comparable to what they were pulling, for as it got closer, Hermione estimated the carriage to be at least twice the size of her home back in Hampstead. The carriage floated prettily, a pale cream embellished with pastel blue designs and gold trim. Obviously of French provincial style, she concluded that this was clearly the Beauxbaton students. So enthralled by the ornate and bordering ostentatious carriage and the horses pulling it, Hermione failed to notice heads turning and mouths gaping at the Black Lake. In fact, her gaze only broke away from the magnificent beasts when Ron elbowed her from behind. She turned to scold him, but caught her tongue when she noticed a daunting, black ship floating on the lake. It rocked back and forth, sending large waves crashing away from it on the usually glass-smooth surface. Hermione thought it very much resembled what happened when you dropped a large rock into a pond and wondered how it got there. Someone was sure to tell her later – there were plenty of witnesses.

“Way to make an entrance!” exclaimed Ron, followed by loud whoops and cheers as he clapped.

“A bit flashy, if you ask me,” Pansy Parkinson sniffed from a nearby group of Slytherins.

“She’s one to talk,” Hermione mumbled under her breath.

“Hah!” a boisterous laugh sounded behind her. Hermione swiveled and caught a pair of hazel eyes looking at her.

Fred leaned towards her. “Nice one Granger,” he complimented over the babble of conversation around them. His warm breath fell on her neck, all too reminiscent of her dream. Her body jerked to attention, heat creeping up her face before she smiled politely and turned away from the older boy.

“They’re coming up to the entrance!” Seamus Finnigan announced. Hermione thanked Merlin for the distraction and looked down the path leading to the front of the castle. Sure enough, there was a large group of individuals walking towards them. As they neared, the Hogwarts students cheered and applauded them, trying to welcome the foreign students like Professor Dumbledore advised. Hermione clapped softly as the first students approached. A tall and unsettling man led the group. His dark hair, speckled with bits of silver, sat heavy on his head, slicked back from his angular face. The sharp features and the long, grey goatee gave him an ominous appearance fueled even further by the deep scowl set into his mouth and piercing black eyes. He wore midnight black robes paired with a brilliantly white fur pelt over his shoulders. Igor Karkaroff. Headmaster of Durmstrang. The students behind him wore robes of deep crimson, the color sharing an eerie resemblance to the color of blood. Like their headmaster, they too donned thick furs to fight the crisp cold, only theirs held a rich color of brown. They looked incredibly warm. Subconsciously, Hermione pulled her wool robes closer around her as a strong breeze blew around them.

“Bloody hell! It’s him!” Ron shouted, his voice taking on a hysterical tone.

“Who?” asked Harry.

“Victor Krum! It’s Victor Krum! Right there in the front!” Ron pushed himself forward and past Hermione to get a better look at the famous Quidditch player coming towards them. With Ron’s tall figure in front of her, she failed to confirm whether the Bulgarian seeker truly lead the group of Durmstrang students. Ron’s excitement only increased as the visiting students got closer and then passed them into the castle.

“Ronald! I can’t see!” Hermione pounded lightly on Ron’s back with her fists until he snapped out of his star struck trance. The ginger boy turned around, a sheepish grin across his face.

“Sorry about that Hermione. Here.” Awkwardly, Ron shifted over and led Hermione to the front by her waist. For the second time that afternoon a Weasley boy reminded her of her dream, Ron’s touch all too like the arms that held her sensually the night before. She took a small step forward, putting distance between herself and Ron’s grasp. The students from Beauxbaton were the next to make their way down the path. The crowd gawked at the elegant French students as they walked poised and beautiful down the cobblestone in their blue silk uniforms. Hermione, on the other hand couldn’t help but find them annoying. They shivered and chattered their teeth in such an exaggerated manner and looked up at the castle with such disgust and judgement that she immediately took a disliking to them.

“For Merlin’s sake! It’s not that cold,” Hermione groaned as the boys and girls huddled together for warmth. Hermione thought them incredibly rude and found it idiotic that they did not think to wear warmer robes. However, someone in their party evidently had sense, as their headmistress sauntered up the path in a heavy shawl, completely unbothered by the cold. Although, Hermione wasn’t sure anything could bother the woman as she stood twelve feet tall and sturdy. A neutral expression, bored some might even call it, covered her face and despite her size, she too glided gracefully across the ground. As they walked past, Hermione could hear little bits and pieces of snide remarks from the Beauxbaton students. Apparently, they thought Hogwarts would be much nicer than it was. Hermione couldn’t believe her ears. She assumed that as guests, they would have much better manners.

“Honestly, can you believe that rubbish?” Hermione exclaimed, turning to Ron and Harry behind her. Instead of meeting commiserating sentiments like she expected, the pair continued to stare at the Beauxbaton students until they disappeared completely into the castle. Their mouths hung open widely, making them look quite dumb, and Hermione turned to Ginny with a questioning look. Ginny shrugged, also confused over her brother and Harry’s behavior.

Hermione waved her hand in front of the pairs’ faces.

“Hullo! Are you two listening to me?” she asked, frowning.

“Bloody hell, did you see her?” Ron asked, in more of a trance than when he saw Krum.

“Yeah…” Harry said dreamily.

“See who?” Hermione questioned. What was wrong with them? They hadn’t acted like this since…oh goodness. Not since the Veelas at the Quidditch World Cup.

“Ahhhh it seems our poor baby brother has fallen victim,” George stated woefully, placing a hand on Hermione’s shoulder. She looked up at him and then back down at his hand.

“Why are you fine?” she asked, shrugging off his hand.

“Oh, Alicia and Angelina were sure to snap us out of it,” Fred stated, then placing his hand on her shoulder.

“And how exactly did they do that?” She raised an eyebrow, shrugging off his hand as well.

“Like this!” the twins shouted before reeling back and smacking both Harry and Ron in the back of the head. The two fourth year Gryffindors yelled out in pain, grasping at their heads before spinning around and glaring at Fred and George.

“What the hell was that for?!” Harry barked.

“You were drooling mates,” George smirked.

“And it’s time to go back in,” Fred pointed behind them at the entrance to the castle where most of the students were filing through already.

They followed the crowd back into the castle and through the corridor into the Great Hall. It seemed the Durmstrang students took a special liking to the Slytherins as almost all of them were seated at their table. The Beauxbaton students seated themselves at the Ravenclaw table, much to Ronald’s disdain. And it was Ronald’s unhappiness that also fueled Hermione’s sore mood as well. Silently she ate her dinner and watched as Ron fawned and drooled and ogled the girls from Beauxbaton for the entirety of the night. When a particularly pretty one approached their table asking him for the bouillabaisse, Ron was left speechless.

“Honestly, Ronald. She’s just a girl. You know, like every other girl in this school. Including myself,” Hermione tried to reason with him.

Eyes still trained on the French beauty, Ron responded with incredulity, “That’s ridiculous Hermione. She’s no girl. That right there is a woman. Leagues above any girl here at Hogwarts.”

A woman? What did that even mean? She was only a few years older than Hermione. She didn’t even look that much older. Hermione turned her attention back to the food on her plate and found that she had lost her appetite. So instead, she pulled a book from her bag and buried herself behind it, slowly sinking lower into her seat as the night went on. She missed the moment they revealed the cup that competitors were to put their name in, too engrossed in the words on the page, and when dinner was over, she was the first to leave the Great Hall. Only, she didn’t head straight for the common room like she usually did. Instead, her feet carried her through the castle until she found herself in the library once again. As she seated herself in her favorite corner, she was reminded of something Professor Trelawney had said her third year. ‘Oh you may be young in years, but the heart that beats beneath your bosom is as shriveled as an old maid’s, your soul as dry as the pages of the books to which you so desperately cleave.’

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Another potion successfully made brother.” Fred grinned, stretching the muscles in his neck and back.

Fred and George Weasley currently sat in an abandoned classroom as they finished the answer to all their problems. Well past curfew, the pair had just filled two vials with the clear aging potion and capped them triumphantly.

“I’d say that one was particularly easy, wouldn’t you?” George replied, standing up.

“As easy as beating Percy in a game of wits.”

“Off to bed then?”

“Actually, I think I may pop down to the kitchen and grab myself a bite to eat. Clean up here?” Fred asked, motioning around the room. The classroom was their own personal haven; tucked away in an old corner of the castle that few ventured it was their go-to space for all their inventing and brewing needs. It was only thanks to their time with the Marauder’s Map that they knew about it.

“Yeah. See you in the morning Freddie.” George waved goodbye as Fred exited the classroom and headed down towards the kitchens. The low light of the hallway candles washed the castle in a soft glow that contrasted with the icy chill of nighttime. The castle was always cold at night. However, the frigid temperature didn’t bother Fred Weasley as much as usual that night. He was far too excited to be bothered by much of anything, really. Tomorrow was the big day. They were going to enter their names into the Goblet of Fire, and it was going to be glorious. Fred had no idea if one of them would even be picked to compete, but just the idea of winning the prize money was enough to keep a spring in his step and a surge of determination coursing through his veins.

He kept quiet as he tip-toed through the halls, just in case Filch was lurking around corners. Turning down the last corridor he was surprised to see, not the scraggly old Mr. Filch, but the familiar figure of a bushy-haired fourth year. Hermione Granger stood in front of a picture on the wall, the torches in front of her illuminating her and making her hair glow like an ethereal halo.

“Hermione?”

She spun around, glancing back and forth, looking like a frightened animal. Fred stepped closer, out of the shadows so she could see him more clearly. He watched her relax, her shoulders dropping from her ears and slumping forward. She laughed lightly.

“Merlin’s beard, Frederick! You scared me!” Hermione exclaimed with an edge of relief in her voice.

“Shhhh!” Fred hushed her, rushing forward, and covering her mouth with his hand. “Do you want to wake the whole castle with your yelling or just Filch in particular?”

Hermione’s eyes widened in alarm. She stiffened beneath him, the two of them silently listening for any signs of Filch or his wretched cat, Mrs. Norris. When Fred failed to hear anything, he let out a breath of relief and looked down at the little witch in his arms. Suddenly he was awash with the memory of the last time the two of them had been that close. The night in the forest when they were hiding for their lives. He removed his hand and stepped back.

“I didn’t realize it was so late. I was coming back from the library and decided to go for a bit of a walk,” whispered Hermione, looking up at him under the glowing light of the torches. “How are we going to get back to the tower without being seen?”

“Simple. I know a shortcut. Come on.” Fred grabbed Hermione’s hand, pulling her along with him down the corridor. Her hand was small and cold but fit surprisingly well in his own. His stomach growled, and mournfully he thought of the late-night snack he originally set out to get. He continued down the halls at a quick pace until they reached the tapestry he had been looking for. Tapping his wand five times at its center, he pulled back the tapestry to reveal a hidden passageway. He let go of Hermione’s hand and the two slipped behind the tapestry, letting it fall back into place behind them.

“Lumos,” Fred spoke softly, lighting the dark space with the tip of his wand.

“Amazing, this must be one of the secret passageways on the Marauders’ Map,” marveled Hermione.

They made their way down the narrow passage, taking up a leisurely pace, not feeling the pressure of getting caught by Filch or his cat. The shuffling of their feet on the cold stone filled the silent space around them as they climbed up stairways and weaved around corners. As they walked, a nagging thought pricked at the back of Fred’s mind until he couldn’t help but voice it.

“So, walks about the castle past curfew. I didn’t take you for the type Granger,” Fred teased. Hermione let out a loud and vulgar scoff. Fred turned, looking down at her incredulously, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The young witch lifted her chin in indignation, “What sort of type did you take me for?”

Fred shrugged, “You know, the good girl type. Doesn’t get into trouble. Doesn’t break rules. Perfect Prefect material.”

“I’ll have you know I break plenty of rules.”

“Yeah, but only when it’s Harry or Ron’s idea,” pressed Fred, hoping to goad her into revealing something he didn’t already know.

“That’s not true!” She turned her head and glared at him.

“No, don’t believe it.” Fred shook his head.

“Well, believe it because it’s true.”

“Prove it.”

“Prove it?”

“Yeah, tell me one rule that you’ve broken that wasn’t Harry or Ron’s idea.” He glanced at the younger witch out of the corner of his eye. Her brows were scrunched together, her pink lips pouting as she thought. Then her face opened in excitement, eyebrows lifting and mouth opening, revealing her large front teeth below her upper lip.

“In first year, it was my idea for Harry to sneak into the restricted section of the library over Christmas holiday,” she stated proudly.

“That doesn’t count! You only thought of the idea; you made Harry do all the dirty work,” countered Fred.

“Alright, in second year I brewed Polyjuice in the girl’s lavatory and nicked lacewing flies from Professor Snape’s office to do it,” said Hermione triumphantly as they reached the end of the passageway, coming out the other side right next to the portrait of the Fat Lady. Hermione spun around, crossing her arms in front of her as she waited for his response.

“Who’d have thought that the Hermione Granger was such a delinquent,” praised Fred, grinning widely. He was truly impressed. He had no idea that the bright little witch had it in her to steal from a teacher.

Hermione sniffed haughtily. “That’ll teach you to underestimate me, Frederick Weasley,” she stated coolly, but her golden brown eyes shown with flee, like he had just given her the best compliment in the world. He then watched in awe as she turned around, mutter the password, and disappeared through the portrait into Gryffindor tower.

“It sure will Granger, it sure will.”

Chapter 6 >>

Taglist:

@theworldisugly-22

#fremione #fred x hermione #fred weasley #hermione granger #slow burn #fan fic #fan fiction #harry potter

36 notes · View notes

coppicefics · 4 years ago

Photo

Masked Omens: Week Seven, Part One

[Image Description: Image 1 - A simple rendition of the Masked Singer UK logo, a golden mask with colourful fragments flying off of it. The mask has a golden halo and a golden devil tail protruding from either side. Below, gold text reads ‘Masked Omens’.

Image 2 - A page from the Entertainment section of the Capital Herald, dated 6th February 2021. Full image description and transcript below the cut. End ID.]

Read the fic here! All news stories and events are entirely fictional; real names of people (with the exception of image attributions) and places are used only for context. No affiliation is implied, and no disrespect is intended by the use of their names in this work of fiction.

[EDIT: With thanks to HolRose/@hasturswig for spotting that I had overlooked the sad passing of John Noakes, who originally appeared on this page!]

The Capital Herald - Saturday, 6th February 2021 Entertainment, page 15

Top left: Grasswater redo rumoured Will anybody tackle the ‘cursed’ adaptation? [Image Description: The ‘w’ in ‘Grasswater, ‘h’ in ‘the’, and ‘o’ in ‘adaptation’ in the above headline have been circled in pencil. End ID.] It's been nearly a decade and a half since the critically-acclaimed adaptation of Sir Thomas Parsett's The Grasswater Affair flopped into cinemas, and rumours are once again circulating about a possible reboot. The first attempt at transferring Parsett's magnum opus to the big screen was released in 2009 after a series of setbacks to the production process. Among the calamities that befell the set were a fire in the wardrobe department, an overdose requiring producers to recast the lead role of Fabian, and a bout of food poisoning that halted filming for over a week. There were whispers, among the more superstitious, that the film was cursed. By the time The Grasswater Affair was finally released, the delay had whipped the original book's fans into a frenzy of anticipation, and excitement over the forthcoming film actually pushed the 19th-century novel into the bestseller lists for the first time in the weeks before the release. Early reviews were promising, and the good press only fed the hype machine. But the crowds that packed into cinemas to watch it emerged disappointed; while the reasons they gave for their disappointment varied wildly, everybody from casual viewers to die-hard book lovers seemed to find it lacking in some aspect or another. It deviated too far from the source text, while adhering precisely to the minor details that didn't matter; it featured a young actor fresh out of drama school, rather than the promised household name; it lingered too long on shots of the actresses' bosoms, and the key object that proved key to the plot was left entirely out of focus in the background of a crucial early scene. While, naturally, some audience members enjoyed it in its own right, it never became either a blockbuster hit or a cult classic, and it still boasts a lowly 2.9 stars on the Internet Movie Database (IMDb) and 24% approval rating on Rotten Tomatoes. This being the case, it might be hard to understand why rumours continue to circulate about a revival of The Grasswater Affair, or what might make this time different from the many, many other occasions when such a story has surfaced on the internet. The first question is easily answered by a look at the thriving community of Parsett fans who adore the original novel – and, indeed, the rest of the series The Grasswater Affair is part of. Following first Fabian, and then various other heroes, through a sort of alternative 19th century underpinned by magic and other fantasy tropes, it's been hailed as a masterpiece – and it's aged surprisingly well despite the shift in society's views and tolerances since its publication. The first novel sees Fabian locked in a battle of wits with his somewhat older rival, Rafferty, as they seek to make their fortunes in a society rife with danger and – worse – scandal. As for the second question, the recent rumours have an extra ring of truth to them thanks to the attachment of an actual name – writer-turned-showrunner Noel Garmin is said to be in talks about the project. Having adapted several of his own books for the small screen, could he now be turning his famed respect for written source material to a film or series based on Parsett's masterpiece? If he does, book fans can expect to be very pleased with the result. Garmin was asked about his upcoming projects at a recent convention panel, and his answer, while enigmatic, seemed promising.“Well, I've got to write some books, at some point! But I do also want to work on some more TV, it's a fascinating way of telling a story and it's still quite new and exciting for me. Perhaps I could tell one of my favourite stories, one that I didn't originally write. I'm actually talking to some people... We'll have to see. Hopefully I'll have news for you soon.” Hopefully you will, Noel. Hopefully you will. CITRON DEUX-CHEVAL Top right: Summer’s operatic offerings Last of Glyndebourne festival announcements [Image Description: The apostrophe and ‘s’ of ‘summer’s’ and the ‘t’ of ‘operatic’ in the above headline are circled in pencil. Below the headline is a short, wide picture of a theatre auditorium with red curtains. Small text over the bottom of the picture reads ‘Photo: Gabriel Varaljay | Unsplash’. End ID.] Opera fans are in for a treat this summer, as Puccini's Turandot returns to Glyndebourne Opera House. The venue in Lewes is renowned as the home of great opera, and Turandot is a favourite no matter where it's performed, so this combination of the two is a perfect match. Throw in popular young tenor Jeremy Wensleydale – most recently seen on ITV's The Masked Singer - performing the role of Calaf, and it's a performance guaranteed to impress. The play follows Calaf as he sets out to win the hand of the titular princess. Each suitor is asked three riddles, and failure means instant death. But answering three riddles is not enough to win the heart of Princess Turandot, and Calaf strikes a desperate bargain; if she can guess his true name by daybreak, she may put him to death regardless. If she fails, the marriage goes ahead. It's an interesting method of courting, to be sure, but the opera has enchanted and delighted audiences for many years now. And, if nothing else, who can resist an opportunity to hear 'Nessun Dorma' live? Glyndebourne members can book tickets now for dates between 25th May and 22nd June; remaining tickets will be available from the 18th of April. Turandot is the latest title to be announced by the opera house and completes their summer season's line-up. There will also be performances of Cosi Fan Tutte, Tristan and Isolde, Il Turco in Italia, and an array of concerts and other events. The Glyndebourne Summer Festival is always a highlight of the arts scene in the middle of the year, but there are events all year round. Currently, the opera house is a stopping-point for a touring production of Romeo & Juliet, which has already passed through the Chichester Festival Theatre and will then go on to Colchester, Ipswich, Cambridge, Sheffield, Manchester and Leeds. The show is a daring new interpretation of the age-old Shakespearean tragedy, fusing music and dance with the familiar story, and a full review will appear in the Capital Herald on Thursday. From the middle of February, Romeo & Juliet will be replaced at Glyndebourne with a more traditional #approach to La Traviata by Giuseppe Verdi. The music of La Traviata may be familiar, even to audiences unfamiliar with the story, as it was rather liberally plundered for inspiration by Donato Lovreglio in 1865. Of course, that does assume a familiarity with Lovreglio - but if you find yourself humming along during your first attendance, that might very well be why. Incidentally, for more opera and classical music trivia, you might find my recent book, Inside Opera, worth a read - especially if you need to brush up on your cultured conversation points before you visit the opera house this summer. EDWARD BIGGS Inside Opera, by Edward Biggs, is published by Byker Press and is available now in all good bookshops. #Hardback RRP ￡9.99/€11.99.

Centre left: Capital Herald scoops NMA Star-studded ceremony honours news greats [Image Description: The ‘H’ of ‘Herald’, ‘A’ of ‘NMA’, and ‘t’ of ‘star’ in the above headline are circled in pencil.] The 2021 News Media Award ceremony took place on Thursday evening at a glamorous event held in the Mayfair Room at the Connaught Hotel, Mayfair. While many of the attendees are more used to operating the cameras than parading in front of them, they rose to the occasion with great aplomb, rubbing shoulders on the red carpet with some of the most famous entertainers in the UK who'd come to add their own special touches to the ceremony. It will come as no surprise to learn that Trevor McDonald, Natasha Kaplinsky, and Naga Munchetty were in attendance, as were Tom Bradby and Dan Walker. But the attendee who really got heads turning was Carmine Zugiber, notorious for attending very few events on UK soil. Although she's normally out in the field, she's been based in London for the last couple of months, covering the political beat for News World Weekly in Uriel Scrolle's absence, and it seems she couldn't resist the opportunity to collect her awards for Best Combat Coverage and Outstanding Field Reporting in person. Wearing a glamorous Ligur gown in striking red to match her hair, she paused on the red carpet to exchange words with some of those less fortunate reporters covering the event. “I don't know what to do with myself, with nobody shooting at me!” Zugiber joked. “Where's my bulletproof jacket?” The ceremony featured a performance of 'Messy (If I Want To Be)' by rapper P-White, who also presented an award for Entertainment Columnist of the Year to the Capital Herald's very own Citron Deux-Cheval. Another of the Capital Herald's staff writers, Edward Biggs, was nominated in the category of News-Adjacent Achievement for his 2020 trivia book, That Guy From That Thing. While the award, presented by Dame Angela Crowley, eventually went to News World Weekly's Donald Eath for High Score: A Study in Arcade Machines, Edward did get a chance to meet Dame Angela and exchange a few words. “She said I shouldn't feel discouraged, as she didn't win anything at her first awards ceremony either – and she wished me every success with my new book, which has just come out,” said Biggs of the star. “Hopefully, next year, I'll be bringing home a trophy too.” At the end of the night, as the winners and losers drifted home, the presses were already roaring into action to print the morning's papers. The news never stops; there was precious little time for the winners to enjoy the warm glow of appreciation, and no time at all for the less successful nominees to lament their losses. But at the end of the day, the whole industry could sleep safe in the knowledge that the work we do is valuable, and valued. MARY HODGES

Bottom left: Blue Peter garden party ‘22 Celebrating 10 years in show’s new location [Image description: The ‘B’ and ‘e’ of ‘Blue’ and the ‘h’ of ‘show’ in the above headline are circled in pencil. End ID.] The BBC has announced that it will be holding a party for former Blue Peter presenters, guests, and viewers in 2022. Held in the Blue Peter garden in Salford to celebrate ten years since it was relocated from London, the party is expected to provide an opportunity for Blue Peter presenters, past and present, to mingle and let their hair down, as well as catching up with some of the guests who've appeared on the show over the years. Former presenters such as Adam Young, Katy Hill, Radzi Chinyanganya, Anthea Turner, Gethin Jones, Pat Maputi, Yvette Fielding and Konnie Huq can expect an invite, of course, as can the current team of Lindsey Russell, Richie Driss, Mwaka Mudenda, and Adam Beales. But the former guests are an even more varied bunch; everyone from Idina Menzel and Sir Chris Hoy to McFly and Tim Peake could be invited, to say nothing of the hundreds of farmers, bakers, teachers, parents, and kids who've taken part in the show. While the party is quite a long way off yet, the BBC are already hard at work figuring out a lottery system that will allow them to give every viewer an equal chance to be invited to the party. Register your interest now on the Blue Peter website to make sure you don't miss out. SARAH JEUNE Ad, bottom right: [Image Description: A black background with a dark-grey crown resting on it. There are smudges of a lighter colour on the background. Above the crown, graffiti-style text reads ‘P-White’. Below it, written as if in chalk, are the words ‘Chalkdust tour’, underlined as if in chalk. Beneath it, a red bar reading ‘New dates added’ covers the words ‘Sold out’. Below that is the web address ‘www.chalkdust-tour.com’. Tiny writing in the bottom right hand corner reads ‘Photo: Zach Angelo for ProChurchMedia | Unsplash’. End ID.]

[End of transcript]

#very much fake news #masked omens #masked omens week seven p1 #good omens fic #mine

3 notes · View notes

nobodyfamousposts · 5 years ago

Text

Felix July - Crossover AU (Felix Culpa/?)

@felixmonth

@imthepunchlord

There was something off.

It started when he first encountered Marinette that morning. She had deviated from her standard outfit in favor of pink overalls. They were what many would consider “cute”, but it was a sudden change from her usual.

“Hello, Felix!” She chirped when she saw him.

“Good morning, Marinette.”

She seemed in a rather jovial mood, given how she brightened upon seeing him. It was a nice change from how frazzled she had appeared when they last parted.

“You seem to be doing better.” He told her.

She smiled nervously. “I just...worked out some things.”

Felix hoped that those things she worked out included standing up to her classmates and telling them to buzz off. But given the way she wouldn’t make eye contact with him, he realized that was rather unlikely.

It had been some sort of drama with Rossi, because of course it was. There hadn’t been a day where Rossi wasn’t at the center of some sort of drama—usually something she herself started.

The latest upset in this case had been in regards to a school dance that Marinette as the Class Representative had helped to get set up. She had done a good majority of the work to put it all together, advocating with the school administration to allow it and allocate a certain amount of funds. Researching and contracting a venue for a set date and time. Music, decorations, catering, everything. She had done it all and without going over the set budget. Everything was looking to be just fine!

And then Rossi had to open her big mouth.

There had been some over the top excuse involved, he was sure. But Felix had long since stopped paying attention to anything the witch would spout. He just knew that she couldn’t go on the set day because...something something puppies in Africa or somesuch. She bemoaned missing out on this big event and next thing he knew, everyone else had been cooing over Lila and trying to offer reassurances that of course their Class Representative could get the whole thing rescheduled JUST for her.

Except that the event was only a couple weeks away and Marinette had already set up everything. She had already made the arrangements, paid the various groups and agencies involved, and had been starting on flyers for the official announcement to the rest of the school when this mess ‘suddenly happened’. Which Felix was sure had nothing to do with the fact that they were all supposed to go to a movie as a group that weekend and trying to fix this would leave Marinette unable to attend. Surely.

To her credit, Marinette tried to point out the issues without coming right out and telling them how downright unreasonable it was to insist on rescheduling a school-wide dance for the sake of one person they weren’t even sure wouldn’t be able to go. The venue and catering agency weren’t going to reschedule this late and the payments she had already made would not be refunded. It was questionable if they would even have another opening available given the numbers of parties and weddings and other functions they had to arrange for.

Even Bourgeois pointed out how illogical the entire thing was—in her own special way of “Ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!” As the daughter of a hotel owner, it stood to reason that she of all people would know the intricacies of event planning and coordination. He would almost be impressed at her speaking up on the matter if it weren’t for the fact she was only doing so because she had already arranged her whole day to prepare for the dance; including time at a spa, hair styling, and makeup. Still, at least she tried to speak up, even if it was only for her own personal benefit.

The classmates just didn’t get it. Marinette was amazing! If anyone could get the school’s approval and recoordinate things, she could. He would admire their faith in her. He really would. Except that it came with this unrealistic expectation that their ‘Everyday Ladybug’ should somehow magically fix everything without realizing just what ‘everything’ entailed.

Which meant she would have to locate a new venue and catering. Which would require more money. Money they no longer had because it had been used already to set everything up before this sudden demand to reschedule.

Oh, but that’s okay! They could do a fundraiser, they reasoned. And of course by “they”, they meant “Marinette”, because they were all busy with other things they actually wanted to do. Ignoring that she would have to get permission from the school to set up a fundraiser and explain what it was for on top of try to explain WHY she wanted to suddenly uproot the carefully planned dance event they already had set.

And of course to add to the insanity of the matter, they decided the fundraiser should be a bake sale. Which of course would also fall to Marinette to not only manage but provide all of the goods for. Even better that since she’s the daughter of the bakers, surely she could get the pastries for free! Ignoring, of course, that this meant her family would be working at a loss for the ingredients used and the time it took to make them. To suggest they shouldn’t even be paid for the task? As though it were somehow obligatory? Felix could tell Marinette was getting frustrated. He couldn’t blame her, as the sheer selfishness and lack of consideration was mind-boggling.

When Marinette tried to object, the class took offense that she wouldn’t do this ‘little favor’ for them. All while ignoring, of course, that none of it can be considered by any means ‘little’. From making the arrangements with the school, to locating and contracting the venue, to purchasing and making the decorations, to catering, to just everything else. Oh, and of course since Marinette was an up and coming fashion designer, she wouldn’t mind making a dress for Rossi as well.

“Oh Marinette. You wouldn’t mind, would you? I know we don’t always get along, but I know you’re the best when it comes to fashion!” She seemed to wilt on herself at that. “Oh, but you must be so busy, and we aren’t really friends. It would be so selfish of me to ask...”

And of course everyone fell for it hook, line, and sinker as they reassured Lila on Marinette’s behalf without even seeing if she was okay with it, then started to push Marinette to do THAT on top of everything else.

He was proud of her for trying to stand her ground, but he knew it would be a lost cause as soon as Cesaire pulled her away to talk to her ‘privately’. Read: make Marinette feel guilty and push her into taking on more of a burden than she really should have to. Out of concern, he had passed by where they were talking and overheard some of the less than friendly whispers from Cesaire about Marinette needing to try to be a friend, make peace with Rossi, and not let her jealousy over Adrien get the better of her before Marinette finally had enough and walked away.

Felix couldn’t blame her. And the look on Cesaire’s face would have been particularly amusing if he weren’t feeling so irate himself on Marinette’s behalf.

They were teenagers. Selfish. Egotistical. He could understand that to an extent. But the problem here was that Marinette already had enough to worry about. And her classmates seemed to fail to realize that she had a life and things to focus on that weren’t Agreste or Rossi. She had other projects, other goals, other aspirations and tasks that didn’t involve any of them. And none of them had even tried to ask if she was okay before volunteering her.

That’s what happened when you were nice, he reasoned. It’s not even out of any maliciousness from others that they want more, just expectation because she had always given in to them in the past.

He had hoped that after everything, Marinette would have refused to cater to their whims or change anything. He was sure that Bustier, Damocles, and even the rest of the school that already knew about the date set would be willing to back her on that.

He was still hoping now, even as she stood before him the next morning, biting her lip in uncertainty. She stared at him intently. He wasn’t sure why. It almost looked as though she wanted to ask him for something.

“If you need something from me, you know you can ask.” He told her gently, trying to be supportive. As much as he wasn’t the ‘touch-feely’ kind of person, he had a talent for reading people.

And Marinette really looked like she could use someone to talk to.

She looked away.

“I think...I’m gonna go see Luka before school.”

He nodded, not at all offended as she turned away. If it helped her to feel better, it didn’t matter who she talked to—just as long as she spoke with someone about it. And Couffaine had a gift for empathy.

So Felix was appeased that she was at least getting some help and proceeded on his way.

The second indicator that something was off was when he reached the school. He was heading down the hallway from the Library when he encountered Marinette again. But this time, she was dressed quite differently, with a jacket that appeared almost like a suit and her hair pulled up into a bun. As he approached, he noticed she was putting up posters.

He looked over the stack she had set aside and found to his vexation that they were for a bake sale.

“Marinette, you know you don’t have to go through with this.”

“Of course I do. How else will people know about the fundraiser?” She replied, not looking away from the poster she was trying to align perfectly.

“You shouldn’t even be doing the bake sale! Or rescheduling the dance! If Rossi can’t make it, it’s really for the best.”

She hmmed to herself and flattened the poster against the wall.

He slammed his own hand over the poster in frustration, forcing her to look at him.

“You crinkled it.” She chastized him.

He really didn’t care. “You don’t owe them anything, especially after how they spoke to you yesterday.”

“I’m the Class Representative. I have to do what the class wants.”

“No, you don’t.” He insisted. “You’re allowed to delegate tasks. If they want to do this so badly, they should be helping out. If they don’t want to contribute to this, then is clearly isn’t that important.”

There was a pause as her eyes met his and he hoped—really hoped that he had gotten through to her.

She looked away from him and back to the poster.

“I need to focus.”

There was nothing he could do for it right now, he realized. That certainly didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try talking to the school administration in hopes they would put their foot down on the matter. At least that way no one could say Marinette didn’t try.

“I hope to see you in class.” He stated as he walked past her, too quick and too angry to fully make out her muttered reply.

“...you’ll see a me there.”

It was when he entered the classroom to find Césaire in an argument that it finally clicked—and he could kick himself for not realizing sooner.

Agreste was uselessly trying to stop the conflict while Césaire looked about ready to blow her top—nothing new there with either of them. But the one she appeared ready to go off on was Marinette. A yet again differently-dressed Marinette who was wearing a hoodie and bearing a disposition that would be more at home on his face than her own.

“Césaire! Agreste!” He snapped, making the two in question jump. “Get away from there. Right now.”

The reporter glared down at him, working herself up into a rant. “Oh, of course YOU would—“

“Césaire.” He growled through gritted teeth. “Step away from the akuma.”

#ml au #felix july #felix month #felix culpa #felix agreste #ml felix #marinette dupain cheng #lila sucks #akuma marinette #akumanette #crossover #ml crossover #manynette #featuring saltinette #saltinette #made with punchlord's permission #ml fic

2K notes · View notes

twiceblackvelvet · 4 years ago

Text

Walk It Out

A/N; i have no idea what inspired this but it made me very sad then happy and then sad again. apparently the way i cope in life is to write about jeti. anyway, enjoy.

New York Fashion Week. The epitome of hell if you ask Tiffany. People rushing around everywhere, bloggers furiously typing up reviews on their phone and all for some clothing that is not practical for everyday living whatsoever. If she could skip out on attending, she definitely would. However, it’s become the norm for her to be invited to such events and they always get approved without her being offered a choice in the matter.

Weaving through traffic with only a few minutes left until she’s due to walk into the venue, her manager tries his best to reassure her that they’ll make it there on time. It may be a pain to sit through these shows, but showing up late is simply unacceptable. The majority of the best seats are usually reserved for celebrities with reporters and the like sprinkled in among them, however, if she doesn’t get there soon it’s likely her place will have been taken by one of the many hungry photographers desperate to get closer to the runway to make sure their shots are perfect. Not that she’d mind being stuck toward the back, but, things can be spun so negatively nowadays on the internet that it’ll be seen as her no-showing rather than just not being in her assigned seat.

Between the hours on end it took to get ready because of course, appearance is everything and the thousands of cabs that have decided to suddenly line the streets when Tiffany desperately needs them to be clear, she ends up being the last to walk into the venue where infamous fashion label Yves Saint Laurent is showcasing their latest collection. There are still photographers eagerly snapping pictures outside and even a few fans call out to her as she darts inside, apologizing with every single step that she can’t stop and greet them all. She promises to do so after the show.

There are arrows and people ready to guide any late stragglers inside luckily. She’s pushed before a large backdrop with the brand’s logo for a few quick pictures before being hurried along inside the darkened room with an enormous runway positioned in the center. To say the place is filled would be an understatement. People are crammed together, photographers huddled over each other, yet, the celebrity tables remain untouched and away from the people actually working and not just here to sit and look pretty.

A small woman with blonde hair begins to lead her to her assigned seat, though, Tiffany already knows it’s likely taken. As they get closer, she can see that someone with long brown hair is already seated at the table, though her back is the only thing in sight, she can tell that whoever it is, looks expensive based on the way they are perched on their seat and the clothing they’ve decided upon.

“Here you go.” The guide speaks, her voice barely audible over the people bustling around the room.

However, it seems that the person she’ll spending her afternoon seated beside managed to hear it also as they turn to face the direction of the voice. In one swift movement, Tiffany is met with a sight she never dreamt of seeing in a thousand years and definitely not in a situation like this.

“There must be a mistake.” Tiffany tries to inform the blonde woman, however, she’s already turned and waltzed off to likely guide another late attendant.

“No mistake. Your name is on the card. Don’t worry, I’m just as surprised as you are.”

Truthfully, Tiffany knew that Jessica would be attending this particular show. She had read the various articles that fans had flooded her Twitter mentions with and proclaiming that they hope for the two of them to interact. But, she didn’t think it would actually happen and would not vote to be seated beside her if she had the choice. Whoever decided the seating plan must hate both of them to pull a stunt like this.

For a second too long, Tiffany takes in Jessica’s appearance. Half out of curiosity the other half out of self-consciously comparing herself to her. Fans had done it for so long after Jessica left the group and she took over the majority of her lines in their songs that it’s become an unfortunate habit she’s picked up to think about just how she fares against her once upon a time friend. Her skin is without a single flaw which is intimidating alone, though she seems to be slightly more slender since the last time they saw each other. Which, Tiffany thinks, could have ended up being the last time ever if it weren’t for today.

“Are you going to stop staring at me and sit down? Or do the people behind us need to watch the show around you?” Jessica’s tone is without malice, though her words still seem harsh to Tiffany’s ears which have become unaccustomed to hearing it.

“Do you think that’s a good idea? I probably shouldn’t even be stood here beside you.” She answers, finally.

“Well, you already are. You may as well sit. What harm could it do?”

Oh, Tiffany can think of a lot of harm it could cause if even one person within this room snaps a picture of them seated beside each other so casually as if the distance and lack of interaction between them for the last few years doesn’t exist. Which, they definitely will capture it. It will go viral. They both will be hounded for hours or even days on end about it. Yet, for some unfathomable reason, she does place herself beside Jessica and ignores the consequences her current actions will have. After all, it’s going to spice up what will undoubtedly be a boring experience for her.

“Thank you,” Jessica states flatly. Her eyes avoid Tiffany’s completely though it’s clear she’s deep in thought. “I suppose we’re both going to have to explain this after we leave.”

“Well, yes. I can’t imagine people will just ignore us being together, here, and sitting mere inches apart.”

“No, they won’t.”

The conversation, if you can call it that, comes to a dull end just as the lights dim further ready for the show to start. Out of the corner of her eye, Tiffany can see that every few seconds, Jessica will spare her a glance looking over her entirely and then tries her best to focus on the show. Her fingers tapping gently against her forearm anxiously as if she’s ready to burst from having to be in her presence.

Several models make their way down the runway, every outfit growing more flamboyant as the show goes on. Tiffany thinks about how this is Jessica’s dream and how deep down inside, she’s glad that she’s working towards it, though she won’t be telling her that anytime soon.

The show comes to a pause halfway through to allow the designers to speak briefly. Tiffany takes this as an opportunity to try and talk to the woman beside her once more.

“I can move if it’s bothering you that much,” Tiffany whispers as to not disturb the person on stage speaking.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

“Well, I am,” Jessica shuffles in her seat with every word. “I just wasn’t expecting this.”

“You didn’t see the articles?” Tiffany asks her voice louder than previously which gains the attention of the people seated in front of them. She mouths an apology and turns back towards Jessica.

“I saw them. I just figured you’d either no-show or that we’d be on the opposite end of the room to each other.”

As the two women continue to size each other up, neither of them knowing where this reunion of sorts will lead them. A photographer kneels in front of their table face lined with an insincere smile that barely raises his cheeks.

“Ladies, photo?” He asks both of them, politer than either was expecting.

“No, thank you.” Jessica offers for both of them curtly. “We’re not here together.”

“Come on, it’s one photo, surely you can spare me that?” He begs voice lacking politeness and replaced with eagerness.

“I said no.”

“Okay.”

They both answer at the same time and the man decides to only listen to Tiffany’s acceptance of his offer and not Jessica’s denial. He quickly grabs the camera around his neck and points it towards them. They both plaster on faux smiles for the quick picture but Jessica’s ears have begun to turn a bright red. If steam could come out of them, it would have filled the entire room.

“Thanks.” The man shuffles off almost tripping over his own feet, likely thinking about just how much he’ll make from managing to get a picture of the two of them together.

“Why did you say yes? Are you insane?” Jessica’s voice is definitely harsh this time, in fact, it’s flat out filled with anger.

“I don’t know, seemed like an easy way to get rid of him.”

Though she doesn’t say it with words, Tiffany can tell that she’s managed to worm her way out of going against Jessica and that she can’t find a way to fight her reason for allowing someone to no doubt reveal that they’re sitting beside each other today and communicating for the first time in years.

The designers finish up their speeches and once again people storm the runway. Jessica tries her best to remain focused on the show. Tiffany tries her best to remove her focus from Jessica. Neither of them is successful. Luckily, the music accompanying the models walking drowns out their conversation.

“You look well.” Jessica offers first. Tiffany thinks about how difficult it must have been for her to offer the first compliment and decides it’s probably best to reciprocate it even if she’s unsure Jessica will trust her words.

“You do too. Though, you always did.”

It’s difficult to say whether it’s the lighting or not but Tiffany is sure she can see a light blush rising on Jessica’s fair skin.

“I don’t know what to say to that. Or to you, in fact,” They both look at each other but avert their eyes once the staring becomes a little too awkward.

“Me either.”

Jessica ponders on her next words carefully, unsure of whether she should speak it out into the world or allow it to remain inside her head to never be heard by anyone else but herself. Her voice, however, disobeys her insecurity and releases her innermost thoughts.

“I… I missed you.” Her voice cracks slightly as she barely stutters the words out but they manage to hit the intended target. “I mean that. I know that it probably just seems like I’m only saying it because we’ve both ended up here but truly, I missed you.”

Tiffany decides that her eyes must focus on the plethora of women walking upon the stage instead of the one currently threatening to make tears spill from her eyes with her words. Jessica was always described by others as a cold person, yet, there’s nothing but warmth in her words despite them mourning what was once a strong bond and unbreakable friendship that was left in tatters.

Her heart wrenches in her chest when she eventually does turn towards Jessica as she’s picking up her black clutch bag from the table and standing to leave. Out of instinct she grasps hold of her wrist and forces her back down into her seat. A camera click can be heard in their vicinity but Tiffany doesn’t care if the whole world is to witness this moment, she can’t let Jessica leave without telling her that she has felt incomplete since her departure from their group.

“Stay, please.” Jessica does exactly that, though not by choice as she’s placed back into her seat by force. “I missed you too. Things weren’t the same for any of us once you were gone. I know that might seem ridiculous to say since we’re all at fault one way or another for everything, but, something was always missing whenever it was just the eight of us.”

“I figured. I watched a few clips of you guys,” Jessica laughs lightly before continuing. “Is it bad that I always pictured myself in any gaps whenever you were all on stage? Or in photos and stuff?”

“No. Not at all. I used to think sometimes they’d do it on purpose so fans could photoshop you in,” They both laugh in unison, something neither would have guessed would be happening upon Tiffany’s first arrival at Jessica’s table. “I still get tagged on Instagram in pictures of us two.”

“Me too.”

Their eyes meet briefly as the laughter comes to a halt but the air around them feels less like it’s bubbling with tension and more like they’ve just resolved an undeclared war neither wanted to participate in.

“So, where do we go from here?” Tiffany cautiously asks.

“When that photo gets out, I’m not sure we’ll be able to continue this stalemate of ignoring the existence of each other anymore.”

The lights suddenly brighten up the room and both women realize they’ve missed the entire exhibition. However, fixing their issues seems far more important than some hideous blouses. Although, Tiffany is unsure if Jessica will agree as she notices the small scrunching of her eyebrows. They both stand now, though the crowd around them makes it impossible for them to leave yet as they shuffle forward slowly.

“What are we going to say about that by the way?” Tiffany stops Jessica dead in their tracks this time to try and strategize their next move.

“Don’t ask me, you’re the one who agreed to it,” Jessica initially brushes off. “Let’s refuse to acknowledge it and say it was our doppelgangers, that’ll work.”

“Very funny Sica.” The shortened version of her name rolling off the tongue naturally.

Jessica twists Tiffany’s body to face her own so as she can talk in a hushed voice without anyone else around them overhearing her.

“Look, we have two options. We buy the photo before we leave, it never gets mentioned and we go about our lives as if this didn’t happen,” Tiffany tries her best not to seem hurt by this choice. “Or, we let them release it and we tell the world that there are no issues between us. It’s up to you.”

Tiffany’s thoughts flash through her mind at a thousand miles an hour. Could she really deal with all of the questions about Jessica that she’s done her best to get out of neutrally over the years again? How will the other members feel about this sudden appearance of Jessica beside her looking as friendly as possible? Can she go back to ignoring Jessica and forgetting that she’s just admitted to missing her? The choice seems obvious and yet she’s conflicted between them.

Jessica proceeds to walk toward the strange photographer having taken Tiffany’s silence as the answer is the former. But once again, Tiffany manages to pull her back and stops her from erasing their reunion from existence.

“Stop. I can’t just forget you again Jessica.”

For what feels like forever since she’d last seen it, Jessica finally grants Tiffany a smile that feels sincere. They stand stuck in place for several moments simply taking each other in. Neither wants to move out of fear that this was all just a fever dream and when they do things will go back to neither knowing one another anymore. Jessica moves first, though, it’s not what Tiffany expects as small arms wrap tightly around her neck and remain there.

Many people passing by them stare, but Tiffany doesn’t care. Jessica could hug her for the rest of her life and it wouldn’t feel long enough. When it does come to an end, they decide to exchange numbers and agree to keep in contact with one another from here on out. They part upon reaching the doors to the lobby and agree to exit separately so as not to cause the fans still lingering outside to pass out.

Jessica turns in place before she pushes the doors open to leave.

“Hey, Tiffany,” She simply nods in response. “I can still hit those notes better than you though.” Jessica flips her hair as she strides out of the door and away from Tiffany whose jaw is agape but she can’t help but laugh at Jessica still making things a competition between them even now.

Maybe fashion week isn’t so boring after all.

#snsd #girl group scenarios #kpop #kpop scenarios #snsd scenarios #jessica jung #tiffany young #snsd tiffany #snsd jessica #jung sooyeon #girls generation #girl group imagines #girl group reactions #snsd imagines #snsd reactions #jeti #kpop imagines #kpop reactions #jessica x tiffany

78 notes · View notes